


Survival

by Niko_Nightwind



Series: Recast Steel [1]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Badass, Broken Families, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Trauma, Dubious Morality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Empathy, Ensemble Cast, Espionage, Families of Choice, Gen, Gritty, Human Trafficking, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, Moral Ambiguity, Moral Dilemmas, Morally Ambiguous Character, Multi, On the Run, Permanent Injury, Politics, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Psychological Trauma, Rebellion, Sarcasm, Survivor Guilt, Terrorism, Unconventional Families, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-01 00:05:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 38
Words: 311,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15130709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niko_Nightwind/pseuds/Niko_Nightwind
Summary: Libra fell.  Everyone is coping in their own way, some wanting to forget, some wanting to challenge and change the world again, but it’s far from over.  You don’t always get what you want… but you usually find a way to make it all work for you one way or another.  After all, the only thing to do when you find yourself beaten on the side of the road is get up and start walking again.Survival is the first step.  After that?  Depends on what you want.  Priorities offer stunning views of a man's true colors.





	1. Game Over

**Author's Note:**

> The Recast Steel Trilogy is a complex post-canon story focusing on the original cast losing the last battle, resulting in the outright loss of the American continents, severe weather changes, and a series of New World Orders on the rise - some considerably better than others. 
> 
> Survival is the first step. After that? Depends on what you want. Where did it all go wrong, anyway? Was it really just Libra, or was it when they firebombed the church? Maybe when ZERO came into play: that was the start of the end, at least. The retraining? Or as far back as Odin's death? Is there any point in even wondering, when the crops are failing and those psychopaths are pillaging the refugee camps? 
> 
> It probably says something that Zechs is more focused on threats to his authority than his sister's economy and humanitarian outreach programs. Or maybe he knows something we don't?
> 
> \---------------------------------
> 
>  
> 
> This is an older story being ported onto Ao3; prior to this, Recast Steel: Survival and Sedition have only been posted on fanfiction.net. It originally began as a response to a series of prompt challenges, that later got completely out of hand. Consequently, the early chapters (originally 1-5, now 1-4) are altogether short and relatively flat, as they are mostly a case of me setting down the foundation for everything else to build on in greater detail later, and you'll notice the chapter length starts at an average of 2500 words, but quickly starts racking up to be closer to 20k or more. Sedition rarely sees a chapter as short as 30,000 words. 
> 
>  
> 
>    
> I hope you enjoy. Comments and conversation are always appreciated.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nine months after Libra's fall, perspective is everything.

**_-_ **

**_ Game Over: Hope or Despair? _ **

_\--_

_Trigger_ _Prompt: Young and poor_

_\--_

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**September 23 rd 196 – Friday – Pec, Serbia**

            The roof of the room looked like it was about to cave in. 

            Quatre, listening to the wind and rain’s assault on the building, expected it to at least start leaking.  The layers of garbage bags over the gaping mouths that had once been windows were secure enough with their duct tape bonds, but with all the racket they were hearing, it was a wonder the storm hadn’t put a stain on the patented material’s record anyhow. 

            Closing his eyes, he tried not to think of the roof, or the windows, or the holes in the walls that had gotten the same decorative treatment as the windows.  Nor did he let himself think about whatever creatures had lived in the tattered blanket he clutched around himself previous to his finding of it last week.  Nine months ago, he would’ve called it a rag, and wrinkled his nose at the smell.  Now, it was a prize. 

            Nine months ago he’d been on _Peacemillion_ , where he’d thought the living quarters mere closets. 

            Nine months ago, he’d thought he would always have his sisters to fall back on, even with his father gone. 

            Nine months ago, he’d had four of the most powerful comrades one could ever have, a command as sacrosanct as that of the Maguanacs. 

            Today, he had a ratty bit of cloth he fondly dubbed ‘blanket’, five rolls of duct tape, and a broken old soldier for company. 

            …The garbage bags were something of Heero’s, stolen out of the kitchen of the house whose attic they’d been hiding in a week or two ago.  He had grabbed the roll out of a cabinet the day they had left, after one of the children of the house had heard his cries in the night.  The mother of the family had promised to have his father look in the morning, her tone suggesting she thought the boy was merely imagining things, but at that point, it wasn’t safe anymore.  They had taken all the food they could carry, leaving before the family could realize that their boy was more observant than they believed.  It was virtually impossible to go into a store, even when Heero managed to wire them stolen money, so he hardly felt bad for stealing…  He had been too hungry, too broken, to care for what felt like an eternity, now. 

            Heero…  He had refused to talk about it since, his pride too damaged – after all, what if one of the parents had heard him, instead of the boy?  He acted as though Quatre hadn’t done it himself before; trying to hold himself to the standards he had kept before _Libra_ fell, trying to deny that anything had changed, even though some days it felt as though the planet had shifted to spin on an entirely different axis.  Nightmares were a plague affecting them both, but while they had both trained themselves to stay silent through those, the body had a way of rebelling against the mind’s orders when pain passed a certain plateau.  And while asleep, the control could become lax.  Gagging rarely worked for Heero, he had a tendency to undo them in his sleep – an odd form of sleepwalking, really, if useful – unless his hands were tied, and, well…  They couldn’t afford for his hands to be tied if they woke in the middle of a situation.  That had happened a few more times than was comfortable.  At least Quatre had eventually gotten to be a light enough sleeper that he could usually wake the other man if he started… but that was a vague talent to rely on.  Obviously, he hadn’t slept lightly enough at least once. 

            He sighed and returned to his catalogue of their meager belongings.  The laptop had always been Heero’s.  Even now, Quatre suspected the one who had once been the strongest of them would slaughter him if he so much as breathed on it. 

            Only then, of course, there would be no one to help him run the next time they were discovered. 

            Heero didn’t run so well these days, not after that last battle at _Libra_. 

            Not that Heero would seriously contemplate killing him, when they were all the other had.  He _might_ have considered it, if he decided Quatre was a liability, but it was hard to make those kinds of decisions when you knew you were practically an invalid yourself.  He had had to admit he couldn’t move when it snowed again two months ago, after Quatre had grown tired of making the first overture.  Whatever the other pilot might have wanted of himself, everything was different now, and not _all_ demands could be met through sheer force of will. 

            The other man was currently sitting with his computer on his lap, his back against the wall, his left leg tucked halfway under him, the bad one laid out in front of him in a semblance of straightness.  …That leg would never look right again.  Even a doctor that made a profession of making things beautiful would shake his head in silent horror and shame at his inability to fix the mangled limb. 

            Quatre just hoped it wasn’t infected again. 

            Rolling onto one side to face him, resting on one elbow, he asked, “Are you almost done for the night?” 

            “Shh,” muttered Heero, continuing to type furiously.  “Almost in…” 

            Quatre laid back down and rolled to face in the other direction obligingly, not wanting to be a distraction.  He had warned him earlier that he was trying to get them money again.  And with the hacker that White Fang – though it was now known as the Peacecraft Regime – had on them every time Heero’s tracks weren’t quite clean enough, it was best to let him concentrate.  There had already been more than a few times where Heero had shaken him awake and whispered hoarsely that his IP had been captured, and they had to move before military got there.  He knew there’d been at least one time where he’d had to completely take on the other man’s weight, carry him, because he couldn’t take a step without starting to breathe in that haggard way of his that meant he was in enough pain to make average men scream for their mothers. 

            Funny how, at sixteen, all five of them were so good about handling pain.  At least, if they weren’t the only ones left. 

            There had been no sign of Wufei, Duo, or Trowa.  Heero had almost bled to death, would have if he hadn’t crashed near Quatre, who pulled him out of the wreckage of Wing Zero and carried him out before the troopers could find the crash sites.  Earth had been saved, _Libra_ more or less destroyed, but…  Not entirely, and the details were fuzzy.  Heero claimed to have no memory of the end of the battle, and though Quatre suspected it haunted his dreams, he would say nothing.  Trowa’s broadcast of the battle between Heero and Zechs had cut out; Trowa himself seemed to have vanished into thin air, taking Heavyarms with him.  Zechs had said that the Earth had learned enough; if he knew what had really happened, he was abstaining from letting the secret out. 

            So now here they were, penniless, not even old enough to legally drive a car, chased by truancy officers if they went out during daylight, until of course they got a good look at his face and called the military police.  The Winner assets had been seized, Quatre’s sisters scattered to the wind even more than before, and he had no way to access his birthright’s field of gold. 

            Sighing again, he tried to shove that thought to the back of his mind and cuddled his pseudo-blanket tightly, trying to get a bit of nonexistent warmth from it before Heero went to sleep and he felt obliged to lay it over the injured man.  In the morning it was always thrown across the room, usually back in Quatre’s general direction, but it was a habit of his nonetheless; it wasn’t fair that only he should have it.  Heero probably needed the little protection it provided more. 

            But he couldn’t blame Heero for his prickled pride either. 

-

***

-

**October 1 st 196 – Amsterdam, Netherlands – Lancaster Park**

            _I knew I had to do it.  I knew right at the beginning that I’d have to do it.  Didn’t mean I didn’t put it off as long as I could.  But push came to shove eventually…  I couldn’t just get rid of all of it.  It was like ripping my own heart out as it was.  I just couldn’t…  I had to keep at least a little…_  

            Duo twirled his ponytail unconsciously, trying to ignore the dull ache in his chest that he was starting to get used to. 

            It didn’t even touch the bottom of his shoulder blades. 

            And it was black. 

            Knowing your chemistry was fun, especially when you could sneak in a kid’s back window and grab his spare uniform, shadow him to school the next day and hang in the library till lunch, then steal the chem teacher’s silver nitrate. 

            …And maybe a couple other things…  He’d had some pretty useful stuff.  Some pyro punk in the class probably took the heat for him; Duo really couldn’t care less.  A kid who went to that school could afford what he’d taken.  Doing nice things like that had a cash requirement… which was something he really didn’t have right then.  He could probably get some, but he hadn’t nabbed a wallet in a good eight years; he was rusty, and the tricks that work when you’re seven don’t always fly when you’re sixteen. 

            Not that he really looked more than fourteen… 

            Not that half the homeless in Amsterdam weren’t under eighteen. 

            …Not that a good nine tenths of them didn’t make some good cash in the red light district.  But he hadn’t sunk that low yet, and didn’t intend to. 

            Besides, that sort of life didn’t get you people watching your back.  And since he rather liked the idea of feeding that old addiction of his called sleep, he wanted a couple buddies always on the lookout.  What he wanted was a gang. 

            And he’d found one he liked the looks of. 

            The issue was getting in. 

            He’d figured that one out too. 

            The Devils really didn’t get along with the Slingers.  The Slingers really disliked the gang vying for more of their territory.  They had more numbers too.  They’d set in an ambush in one of the spots the Devils had claimed theirs when they thought it wasn’t. 

            It should also be noted that a couple gang fighters, even ex-soldiers, are no match for a gundam pilot. 

            So there he was, sitting on a small bench in one of the city’s dark squares, waiting for the Devils to show up and see his handiwork.  He’d been watching them for a while now, and a group of them always came here around this time of night…  He resisted the urge to open up his bag and finger the old braid; he had a tendency to daydream if he let himself touch it.  They’d be there any minute, and he needed to play his cards right. 

            When he picked up the sound of others coming near, he took on a carefully nonchalant pose, legs sprawled out in front of him, leaning back, hands behind his head, resting his head and hands on the edge of the back of the bench so he was looking half at the murky, polluted sky and half at the direction they were coming from.  He didn’t have to wait long. 

            “Hey, you really don’t want to be here this time of night.  You should go, it’s not-  Holy shit!” 

            Duo smirked at his reaction and some of the mirrored reactions of the others as they saw who was laid about, bloody.  Nine men without guns was a trifle for him; Heero might have mocked him for being petty enough to take them down at all. 

            But the fun thing was, not everyone held the same standards as a gundam pilot, let alone Heero fuckin’ Yuy. 

            “I heard these guys were thinking of jumping you,” he offered in explanation, standing up and facing them.  “So I thought I might lend you a hand.”  It was hard to tell faces and body shape well in the darkness, but he could see that there were five of them.  He had estimated the gang’s total number at around twenty-three.  This was a good gateway in.  Looking down at the unconscious men – there’d been no women included in the attempted ambush – he added, “Looks like they really didn’t like you much.” 

            One of the newcomers snorted with some amusement.  “Looks like they’d’ve done better to like you than face off.” 

            “Why do this?” demanded another warily. 

            _Smart, don’t take me on first showing,_ praised Duo mentally.  Outwardly, he shrugged.  “They bothered me.  You all seem like a cool enough crowd, but these guys,” he waved a hand around at those on the ground, “rub me the wrong way.” 

            After a second or two, still in a wary tone but wearing down a little, the second voice said, “Then it looks like we owe you a thank-you.” 

            _Bullseye._  

            “Got a name?” asked another of them. 

            “More than I’d care for,” he admitted dryly, running his tongue over his teeth and hissing out a breath he knew they could hear.  “Call me Chaos.” _I may run and hide but I never tell a lie._  

            “New around here, American?” 

            _…I hate my accent…_   He let out a weak chuckle.  “Unfortunately.”  Licking his lips, he said, “Folks disappeared a good while back.  Been trying to figure things on my own, and…” he kinda trailed off there, shrugging. 

            “…Ah.  Trying to get yourself in good graces,” drawled the one Duo’d dubbed as the leader of this little group, or at least the thinker.  His tone was almost as bland as Heero’s.  It had a rather eerie effect the old pilot of Deathscythe didn’t like much at all.  He wanted to see the man’s face suddenly; he knew it wasn’t his old comrade, but his voice just…  It twisted and contorted his control on his emotions. 

            _Keep guard,_ he forced himself to think. _This is **not** Heero._   “Give or take.” 

            The figure nodded a little and spread his arms out in a gesture of welcome.  “Congratulations, then.”  He took a slight bow.  “I think Luc might like to meet you.” 

            _Right on the money._  

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**


	2. Candle Flicker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relena's opening interlude

-

**_ Interlude: _ **

**_ Candle Flicker _ **

_\--_

_Trigger Prompt:_ _An old newspaper_

_\--_

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**September 25 th 196 – Sunday – Rome, Italy**

            “May I get you something to drink, Miss?” 

            “A virgin strawberry dacori, please,” replied Relena politely, peering up at the waiter from under her finely woven straw hat.  “Bill it to my room.” 

            “Naturally, Miss Peacecraft.  Is there anything else I can get for you?” 

            “No, thank-you,” she answered.  “That’s fine.” 

            She sighed as he walked away, covering her eyes with one hand.  She hated this… _frivolous_ life.  Milliardo was out playing God with humankind as his latest toy, and in order to keep her “safe” while he “prepared” the world for her “purer” rule, she was under constant guard and escort.  She had tried to stay near him at first, to make him see what he was doing that was wrong…  But it had been useless. 

            _‘You’re fifteen, Relena, please.  I’m happy to see that you’re so enthusiastic, but leave well enough alone, for now.  I can take care of this.’_  

            She wasn’t sure whether it was his or her annoyance with the other that had made her give in and leave to strike out on her own. 

            But of course, Milliardo Peacecraft’s little sister could not go out _alone_.  It wasn’t like she could _take care_ of herself.  Why, the moment she set foot out on pavement without a six-guard escort she would immediately be kidnapped or assassinated.  No no, she should go and enjoy herself at a ski resort. 

            Or at a beach. 

            Or in one of the old cities.  You do enjoy museums, don’t you, Relena? 

            Why not take a cruise through the Mediterranean? 

            A tour through the colonies sounds lovely, doesn’t it? 

            Top rated resorts, five star hotels, the softest sands, the smoothest slopes, every fashionable ball on Earth or in the colonies… she’d been to them all.  She’d been to and through every expensive shop in London, Paris, Florence…  She’d carried out every frivolous, meaningless, damned stupid farce she could think of in an attempt to drown her need to _do_ something. 

            Over the past six months, she had been more places and spent more money than one should in a _lifetime_.  At this point, she really felt like somehow ditching her escort and taking a walk down the road so maybe someone would shoot her for her fat wallet.  It would be a nice change. 

            She wanted back into the politics game.  She wanted to stop her brother’s madness from wracking mankind anymore than it already had.  She wanted to start things settling back into a balance… 

            She wanted to know if Heero was really alive or not. 

            But no, no, Relena was only sixteen, what could she possibly know about politics?  She had only grown up as the daughter of the vice foreign minister, only been through a _war_ where she not only was the ruler of a small, peaceful nation, but had been _Queen of the damned **World**_ for a while. 

            How on _earth_ could she _possibly_ know a thing about politics? 

            The waiter brought her drink back and she took a deep gulp of the icy strawberry goodness.  _I should’ve had Heero kill him back in Antarctica,_ she mused darkly. 

            So here she was, at a nice little resort in Rome, spending a morning out by the pool in a striped green canvas lounge chair with a drink that she was starting to wish had a little alcohol in it like it was supposed to, wearing a sundress and a pink straw hat with a dorky looking yellow flower on it that had cost a good twenty dollars more than it ought to have. 

            Arrayed around the pool in other variously striped canvas chairs were a handful of people who were all much older, all with smaller budgets, idling their time drinking, or sleeping, or reading the newspaper.  Generally enjoying themselves. 

            They appeared to enjoy doing inconsequential things. 

            But maybe they’d been rebellious when they were her age. 

            God, but she wanted to be rebellious… 

            For now she settled for reading someone else’s newspaper because they were sitting near her.  It wasn’t her paper, after all, she had no business reading it.  _So there_.  She tried not to think about exactly how paltry that sounded as she leaned over slightly to see it better.  She saw a story at the bottom of one page that caught her eye immediately. 

-

            **Gundam Pilot Report False**  

**It has been found that Therese Wilburn, a woman who reported people living in the attic of her house, did not in fact have fugitive gundam pilots squatting on her property.  Police investigators report that while it _is_ possible, there is not enough evidence to support the claim.  Some**     _(continued on page 6)_  

-

            Snatching the paper from the middle-aged man reading an entirely different article a number of pages over, she frantically flipped to page six, wanting the rest of the story. 

            “Hey kid, can’t you get your own?” asked the man irritably.  “I was reading that.” 

            Relena ignored him, standing up and heading  to her room, reading the article as she went.  She hated the attitude of the reporter, who obviously thought that the pilots were either all dead or as good as, and that too much of a fuss was being made over them.  Folding the paper under her arm, she shook her head disgustedly and dug out the key for her suite. 

            Once she was in her room, she went over to one of her suitcases and pulled out her scrapbook, quickly tearing out the article from her stolen paper and adding it to her collection.  Hands trembling – though with what emotion she didn’t know – she flipped back to the beginning of the book then randomly through it, scanning headlines. 

-

            **Gundam Attack: Lake Victoria Base**  

            **Gundam Kills Minister Noventa**

            **Gundam 01 Goes Kaboom: One Down, Four to Go**

** Colonies Cry for Peace: Gundam or No Gundam?**

** Pacifist Kingdom Defends with Gundam**

-

            Again and again, headline after headline, the gundams were damned, and everything associated with them too.  There was never any peace; they were under constant attack. 

            She had hoped, as she gathered all the clippings for this notebook over the last year, that eventually the people might recognize the gundams and their pilots for who they really were. 

            But the only prevailing fact was that the Regime wanted them dead, and nobody else honestly cared. 

-

            **Gundam Pilots Still At Large**  

-

            There was hope in that, at least.  They might still be alive. 

            _If only there was something I could **do** … _ 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and conversation are always appreciated.


	3. Digging a Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Settling in Amsterdam

**_-_ **

**_ Digging a Hole _ **

\--

_Trigger Prompt: Sinner_

\--

**_-_ **

**_-_ **

**_-_ **

**_-_ **

**October 1 st 196 – Saturday – Amsterdam, Netherlands – Devil’s Den**

            _I never thought of myself as Wonder Woman.  Even before my parents died, I didn’t have such high hopes.  I never thought I was anybody special.  I never had the idea that I might do something great._  

 _But… I never thought I’d get knocked up at fifteen; that’d happened three times now.  I never thought I’d sit and debate who the father was for a few hours, trying to decide which choice made me sicker.  I never thought I’d be sitting trying to scrounge the cash for another abortion, cause Luc or Cal would ask what happened if I did it the old fashion way and paid someone to sock me in the stomach a good couple times._  

            _I never thought I might become who I am.  I’m glad._  

            _That’s the kind of shit that gives you nightmares._  

            “Luc, what the _fuck_ is your problem?” 

            “ _What_?” he demanded incredulously turning back to look at her with sincere eyes.  Seeing how she stood, how every little part of her read, ‘don’t-fuck-with-me-asshole,-I-don’t-feel-like-playing-games-today’, he sighed.  Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he said, “I don’t see why you keep insisting on going out…  I mean, I know where you are, but still, the Slingers…” 

            “It’s safe ground, Baby,” she insisted, sidling closer and running her hands down his chest.  “Nobody’ll touch me…”  She pressed her hips to his, lifted one leg, and slowly ran her inner thigh down his, pressing closer and gripping him tightly around the waist with her arms.  She smiled sweetly and looked up to him, knowing her soft blue eyes were as perfectly beautiful as a doll’s, only with a slight hint of danger.  “Nobody’d dare…” 

            He swallowed, looking considering for a moment as she gently wrapped her leg around his.  “Sin…” he started, then stopped as she reached under his shirt, running her nails lightly down his back.  After a moment, he looked down at her resolutely and said, “No.” 

            Affronted, she pulled away and glared at him.  “Why not?” 

            “The Slingers are starting to really lose it with us, they’re on the prowl all the time now, and I’m not about to let you go walk the streets alone in the dark when they could just be waiting to ambush you!  They’re not _from_ here, they don’t _care_ about anyone else, and they’re damn well itching to hurt us for trying to get by!” 

            “Nine more won’t be hurting anybody anytime soon, if ever,” announced a new voice. 

            The couple both spun to find Doushovel and Melissa warily watching a newcomer, Shov with his hand on his gun; he and Luc were the only ones who had them. 

            Sin frowned; there didn’t seem to be anything at all threatening about the boy.  His coal black hair was scraggly and obviously hadn’t been washed in a good week, if not longer.  Baggy clothes hung loosely off a scrawny build; he had a big black carry sack slung over one shoulder.  His face was shadowed by a black baseball cap. 

            “Who’s he?” demanded Luc. 

            “Found him in Lancaster park, sitting on a bench,” replied his second in a monotone.  “There were seven dead Slingers ‘round him, two more almost joinin’ ‘em.  Says he did it all himself.”  He paused for a moment, then added, “No guns on him.” 

            “Fuckers were asking for it,” announced the dark-haired boy cheerfully in a clearly American accent, looking up to meet Luc’s incredulous eyes. 

            Sin looked him over again, reevaluating.  He couldn’t be any older than she was, but those baggy clothes could just as easily be hiding the muscle he must have, to take out nine of Cal’s fighters – the Slingers were ex-soldiers, not locals banding together to scrape by.  His face was almost girlishly pretty, but his dark cobalt eyes… they belonged to someone who had led a tortured life.  She suddenly realized that yes, his mannerisms, the look on his face and the way he talked, was sarcastic, companionable, and friendly…  But the way he stood, or something… maybe it was the eyes… just screamed of danger. 

            “What do you want?” asked Luc coldly, also looking him up and down. 

            The other boy held his hands up.  “Hey, buddy, I’m just looking for some people who might watch my back for the same favor.  Dog eat dog world out there, and I kinda like to sleep sometimes.” 

            “Why us?” returned Luc, still cold.  

            “Well fuck if I like a group of assholes who tried to jump me when I went to sit down in the damn park,” returned the other, his tone still laid back, though somewhat angry at the mention of the Slingers he’s had a scramble with.  “And _fuck_ if I’m going downtown to that red-light hellhole.  Kill me first, I’ve seen that place!”  Melissa snorted slightly at that in agreement; though when the boy glanced back at her she just raised one brow. 

            Luc’s look was slightly amused.  “The whores _scare_ you, eh?” 

            “The fuckers are desperate, asshole,” snapped the guy.  He was becoming more and more defensive as the conversation went on.  “I ain’t that bad off yet.”  He rolled his shoulders uncomfortably.  “I know what a pretty face is worth down there, and I don’t want to be next.” 

            “Asking to get your face real unprettied, picking a fight with a group of Slingers,” commented Sin. 

            “All the better for me,” he retorted, rolling his eyes. 

            …She liked his attitude. 

            Luc seemed to tense even as she relaxed, and she didn’t think it was coincidence; he knew her better than Cal. 

            Or maybe Cal just didn’t care as much.  The bruises Cal left were the reason Luc was so protective of her, didn’t want her going out alone, even to safe ground… 

            But there were other ways to twist Luc’s arm into getting what she wanted, just because he _was_ Luc, and not Cal. 

            “Name?” she asked, favoring the boy with a smile.  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Luc’s shoulders tightening. 

            “Calls himself Chaos,” announced Shov before the other could. 

            “Chaos?” scorned Luc. 

            Chaos shrugged.  “Whatever works, eh?  I’d just as soon forget my old life.” 

            “Chaos,” repeated Sin delightfully, letting it roll off her tongue with a slightly affectionate tone. 

            Luc clenched one fist behind his back, glaring a warning at the newcomer. 

            To her surprise, however, Chaos himself favored her with a dark look that made her want to shiver.  “That’s my name,” he announced, his tone holding a slight hint of warning.  Settling back on his heels and breaking off the glare, relaxing, he continued sarcastically with, “Don’t wear it out on the first day, it’s not nice.” 

            Sin fought the urge to rub her arms at the chill of his gaze, then was upset with herself for wanting to.  She ruled here; this was her ground.  There was something about this Chaos…  she didn’t know what, but she wasn’t sure she liked it. 

            “I’m going to bed,” she announced, and turned to peck Luc on the cheek.  “I’ll see you soon?” 

            “In a bit,” he remarked coolly, not turning to look at her as she left. 

            “Good night, Chaos,” she chimed as she left the room. 

            “Night,” he returned courteously, but without emotion. 

            She pursed her lips.  That wouldn’t do. 

-

***

-

            “Don’t even _think_ about it,” snapped Luc once he was sure Sin and the two who had escorted Chaos in were gone. 

            “‘Forgive us our trespasses,’” murmured Chaos, “‘And lead us not into temptation.’  I’m _not_ thinking about it.  I’m Chaos, not fucking Adam, I recognize forbidden fruit.” 

            Luc looked at him hard for a moment, then shook his head a little.  Motioning for him to sit at the table he had there in the room, he asked, “Religious?” 

            “Not sure, in all honesty,” he replied, shrugging his bag off his shoulder as he sat.  “That just seemed to fit, with your china doll there.” 

            “Sin,” clarified Luc.  “And I’m guessing you know who I am already.” 

            “Luc, leader of the Devils,” affirmed Chaos.  He looked towards the door the woman had left through.  “Sin’s a good name for a girl so pretty she can’t walk by without making men think of committing it.  Why’s she pissed at you?” 

            “None of your business,” replied Luc, somewhat annoyed, though he wasn’t sure why.  He was fairly sure it was really just transferred over from his argument with his girlfriend.  Melissa and Shov would never have brought him into the Den without getting a good measure of him… and while that was hardly a good measure of a man, it _did_ hold some weight.  He didn’t set off that danger sense – at least not once he had stopped glaring at Sin – but there was still definitely… _something_ about him.  Changing the subject, he asked, “What makes you think you’re not jumping in over your head, American?” 

            Chaos was silent for a moment, then he sighed.  “I miss having a family,” he admitted. 

            Luc leaned back, trying to relax a bit.  It was hardly a new story; the last of his own family had died back in 194.  “How long have your folks been gone?” 

            “Don’t remember ‘em.” 

            Luc frowned; he hadn’t really been expecting that.  “What’s the story, then?” 

            “Story?” 

            “The family you miss.” 

            Chaos’ dark chuckle was sad and weary.  “Which one?  They’re all gone.”  When Luc didn’t respond, he sighed again and elaborated.  “Was part of a crew when a leader took pity on me when I was too little to really remember… plague swept through a few years later.  I figure I was seven or so when the church took me and everyone that was left.  Church got burned down because of some revolutionaries a couple years later, after everyone but me’d gotten adopted or fostered off.  Got picked up as a recruit the next year, fought in the Gundam war a couple years after that.”  He rolled his shoulders uncomfortably.  “Nobody wanted a soldier anymore, once the dolls came out.” 

            An ex-soldier…  “Ever face a Gundam?”  That might explain being able to down nine Slingers without a gun. 

            “Once or twice,” he admitted quietly.  “You never come out of a fight there unrazed.  Most people end up dead.” 

            “Lucky?” 

            “Yeah,” he whispered, looking down at his hands, resting on the table.  “Lucky.” 

            Luc paused for a moment, giving it one last moment of consideration, before stretching a hand across the table.  He was foreign… but he also wasn’t like Cal’s fighters.  Maybe it was because of how much younger he was, or that he’d come off the street himself… God only knew the Devils’ Get was only a few steps off it.  There was something… defeated about the kid, and Luc could tell before Shov and ‘Liss left that Chaos wouldn’t be able to mix well with the personalities most of the Slingers had.  So despite the avoidance and half-truths he could feel… there was something that just felt _right_ about giving him a chance.  If he turned out to be trouble, they’d deal with it then. 

            “Nice of you to show up.  It’s always good to have somebody else who can cover himself.” 

            Chaos smiled a little and took his hand, “It’s good to not be alone anymore.” 

-

***

-

**October 3 rd 196 – Monday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            The dark interior…  the single stained glass window above the alter… 

            They were so alike… 

            God, it had been so long… 

            Duo smirked at his own thoughts, thinking that maybe there, it didn’t count as breaking a commandment. 

            Luc had mentioned the church yesterday, and Duo had thought to avoid it; best not to tempt fate into repetition and all.  But somehow, despite that, he had soon found himself on the little cathedral’s doorstep – like a lost puppy.  He had gone inside, feeling as though it was another man walking towards the alter, falling to his knees. 

            It was kinda funny…  no matter what happened, no matter what you’d done, what atrocities you’d committed, what commandments you would break again…  you could never really forget what was instilled in you as a child. 

_-_

            _“Now, Duo, promise me you won’t get into another fight if I let you go out again.”_  

            _“But, Sister, I only-”_  

            _“Duo, please?”_  

            _“Sister Helen is right, Duo.  You ought to be a good example; you represent this church wherever you go, whatever you do, understand?”_  

            _“But, Father Maxwell…  how can you just let them say all that stuff?”_  

            _“It’s not our place to judge; that is God’s decision, you know that.”_  

            _“I don’t believe in God.”_  

            _“Duo, please I wish you wouldn’t-”_  

            _“Shh, Sister, leave him be…  Just try to turn the other cheek, boy, alright?”_  

_-_

            “I was never any good at turning the other cheek,” he muttered to himself, resurfacing from his memories.  “Never really repented.”  Smirking a little, he added, even more quietly, “I was always a sinner.” 

            He didn’t see Sin standing in the back of the church, glaring at his back. 

-

***

-

**October 7 th 196 – Friday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “ _Dit is niet de eerste keer dat jij jier bent,_ ” announced a man warmly, and Duo snapped his head up to look at the priest in surprise.  It had been a long time since someone had snuck up on him… though he supposed it had only been because he had been so wrapped up in his thoughts.  This was probably the third time he had come to the church, and it had only been a week. 

            The priest smiled at down at him.  _“Ik heb jou hier nog nooit eerder gezien.  Ben je nieuw hier?”_  

            Duo blinked, translating and digesting what the Dutchman had said before replying, _“Ja, ik ben nieuw hier._ ”  _I’m new here, yes._  

            He blinked in return, then smiled again.  “American?” he asked tentatively in English. 

            Duo smiled wanly.  “Yeah.”  He really needed to work out the kinks on that accent.  Everyone seemed to know his descent immediately, for all that he’d never actually lived in America; not unless he counted a couple days of hiding out in a school so he could do a mission. 

            The priest smiled again and stretched out a hand.  “What brings you to us?” 

            “Bad fortune,” he said as he stood and took his hand, shaking it firmly, at first thinking the man meant the Netherlands.  Then, looking around the church, he added, “Old memories.”  At the older man’s encouraging look, he explained, “When I was young, a church took me in as a war orphan.” 

            “You _are_ young,” countered the priest, looking at him mock sternly. 

            Duo shrugged a little uncomfortably.  “Older than I truly care to be,” he admitted, looking down.  “And my church is a long forgotten ruin, now.” 

            “That is sad to hear,” murmured the man quietly. 

            Duo sighed.  “It’s a sad world, Father.” 

            “Yes…  Yes I suppose it is.” 

-

***

-

**Unknown**

            Heero stared at the closed top of his laptop for a moment, considering.  It _hurt_ in a way he had never imagined it could, that he didn’t dare use it to get anything useful done, and the battery life was too precious, not knowing the next time he might be able to recharge, to waste time on it. 

            Someone was _tracking_ him…  That had never happened, and he was almost positive that no one had ever tracked Odin either.  His brand of programming and hacking was ‘a little off kilter’ according to some of the men who had trained him for Operation Meteor, and therefore not so easily found… yet someone had obviously figured it out, from how often they had had to run. 

            He felt… almost as though he was missing a limb, not being able to work as he always had, but he had learned the hard way.  Shifting to stare at his mutilated leg, he resisted the urge to laugh, suddenly…  Quatre was too vital an ally to risk alienating by suggesting a high chance of breaking insanity, even if it was likely true. 

            This would be a particularly bad time to break down.  And death wasn’t as appealing as it had once been, and he couldn’t risk capture because then he would essentially be _entirely_ truncated.  In any event, even if it became a viable option, he refused to betray his comrade… they had come too far, now. 

            The blonde was reading a paperback he had found somewhere to pass the time…  They couldn’t move again until night for cover, and Quatre required far less sleep than Heero hated to admit he did, with his injury.  However, it would be unwise to make noise, hiding in another attic as they were, so he settled back down, wrapped in the far too large hooded sweatshirt they had found laying out and forgotten upon entering the house, that could be dismissed as misplaced or lost…  The extra fabric only made it warmer, even though it hung so loose that it was a wonder it even touched half of him. 

            Hopefully, now Quatre would stop trying to take pity on him with the damn blanket. 

            Annoyed at doing it on some level, he closed his eyes and evened out his breathing, slowing his heart rate into a normal sleeping rhythm, and began to focus on the thoughts and concepts that would force his brain into the first stage of sleep.  He didn’t _want_ to, but there was nothing else to keep his mind, and since he had already stretched and moved his injured leg as much as he dared, there was a chance that more sleep still might help. 

            Maybe once Quatre was done with it, he’d read the book. 

-

***

-

**October 10 th 196 – Monday – Amsterdam, Netherlands – Lancaster Park**

            Duo froze when Sin slipped out of the darkness beside him in the park, the very one where he had fought the Slingers last week.  “Hello,” he muttered civilly. 

            “Hello, Chaos,” she returned, tilting her head at him in an altogether cute fashion… he hated how she did that.  It was a gesture purposely _meant_ to attract, and with that perfect doll face of hers, it worked like a charm. 

            At least unless you knew better. 

            “What do you want?” he asked bluntly. 

            “Oh, Chaos, so little trust?” 

            “Only a fool would trust a woman who calls herself Sin.” 

            She pouted… and again it was in that sort of calculated to get as much attention as possible way.  It made him all sorts of nervous… he didn’t _like_ playing cat and mouse.  “And what if I call myself such because I know sin is what enters men’s thoughts when they see me?” she countered. 

            Duo snorted.  “Excuse me, lady, but with that sort of name, you’re just trying to reel in every sinner within five miles.” 

            She smirked a little, drawing closer, and Duo tried to keep himself from watching how her hips swayed.  “Well, one would think that a man who calls himself Chaos is a true sinner indeed.”  She was right in front of him now, and looped her arms around his neck. 

            He pushed her away, careful to do it by her shoulders, not… letting his hands fall anywhere else.  “Indeed,” he quipped.  “Forgive me if I’ve had all the taste of heavenly wrath I can handle already.  I hardly want to get Luc’s too.”  Even as he was speaking he was turning away, hoping to end the conversation. 

            He didn’t expect her to run up and press herself up against his back, running her hands tantalizingly around his waistband, teasing his neck with hot, whispery kisses. 

            He had to swallow hard.  “Please stop,” he managed. 

            “Mm,” she mumbled into his neck, running her hands up his shirt and across his abdomen, trailing her nails slightly so he shivered. 

            He swallowed again and took a deep breath.  “ _Please_ stop,” he repeated. 

            Her response was to run her hands back down and grip his thighs. 

            “ _Christ_ , lady, quit it!” he cried, shoving her away and dancing back a couple feet. 

            “The regular churchman, using the Lord’s name in vain?” she taunted sarcastically. 

            “Little bit of sinner in all of us, lady,” he simply returned, turning and heading back to the den at a run.  “So fuck off!” 

-

***

-

**October 11 th 196 – Tuesday – Amsterdam, Netherlands – Devil’s Den**

            “I hear you threw Sin.” 

            “I shoved her,” argued Chaos moodily, not lifting his head up from its place on the table. 

            “Why?” 

            He was silent for a moment, then he lifted his head.  “Luc, she wouldn’t leave me alone.” 

            “She has to leave you alone?  Last I checked, she’s something of a social butterfly.  She likes to actually _know_ everyone.” 

            “Well, she was acting like she wanted to know the inside of my pants,” snapped Chaos sharply.  He put his head back down.  He knew she was only doing it to annoy Luc, or because she thought she could control him with that kind of manipulation…  But that honestly made it worse than if she genuinely liked him.  There wasn’t any way in hell he was going along with it… and so far the rest of the group just seemed amused by the running byplay.  As far as he had gathered, this was _normal_ for her when meeting new people… so hopefully it would wear off soon. 

            “…You threw Sin… because she was hitting on you?” 

            “I _shoved_ Sin because she was one step away from _molesting_ me.” 

            “…You’re a strange man, Chaos.” 

            “Meh.” 

-

***

-

**October 13 th 196 – Thursday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            Chaos wasn’t there; for once since he had come to their city, he was gone.  Quickly, she hurried across the church and shuffled into the confessional.  Miming a cross across her chest, she murmured, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” 

            “Ah, Karina,” murmured the church’s only priest.  “We’ve missed you this last week.” 

            Sin bit her lip, holding a hand to her belly, even though it had not yet begun to shape into any kind of noticeable swell.  “I’m in trouble again, Father,” she whispered. 

            The priest sighed.  “I was afraid you might have come to say that.” 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, conversation?


	4. When the Thorn Looks Attractive...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to start a dangerous game; or maybe better to avoid the temptation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Prompt: Every rose has its thorn
> 
> 7/12/2018: I looked back at this and realized this scene was written, like... ten years ago before I established any serious world building, and in particular, had done practically /any/ design of the Winner family. I returned to this chapter with my notes originally intending to simply correct Atia's numbers, but then realized her attitude... doesn't /work/ for what comes later. And then it mutated on me. Thankfully, it's pretty awesome, and adds a lot of depth. The Winners are eventually major players in Recast Steel, and so, without further ado, I give you their new introduction!

  _ **-**_

 ** _When the Thorn Looks Attractive…_**  
\--

 _ Trigger Prompt: _ _Every rose has its thorn_

_\--_

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**October 24 th 196 – Monday – L4**

            Atia sighed as she dropped into her couch, closing her eyes and trying to make the tension in her head ease away.  She had had to fight tooth and nail for the rights of her colony that day, with the Regime trying to suck the lifeblood of the Winner Corporation dry.  She understood needing to stretch their resources, she understood giving away everything that could be spared… 

            But that didn’t mean Peacecraft had the right to employ mass extortion to an entire colony just because her little brother had fought in a gundam. 

            It wasn’t as though she or any of her sisters close to her in age had even _seen_ Quatre since he was a baby.  Their father had been so paranoid that one of them would tell the boy he had been borne truly by their mother that he had sent them all away and refused to lift the ban even when he had become depressed to the point of being suicidal.   ** _Suicidal_** _for thinking he was artificially born and therefore **replaceable** , of all things!_  _Did he refuse to educate himself, or did he think Father that immoral?  Silly boy._   The practice of mass-producing clones had been done away with for over sixty years; every child, no matter their means of birth, was an original meeting of egg and sperm, not a copy.  Only the worst of areas still produced twin after twin for backbreaking manual work in mines and construction, and despite the rumors the Winner family had been dedicated to eradicating such facilities for decades.  They had had less luck ending the practice of producing individuals to be born into virtual slavery, as that Maguanac group was, but there were fewer cases year by year. 

            It was aggravating, the way Zayeed had raised him.  _Isolated and indoctrinated, and you **still** bungled it, Father._   There was a poetic justice there that she could appreciate – not that it made the psychosis of the last two decades of emotional trauma hurt any less. 

            She had only been nine when her brother was born and their father had forbidden contact with any of the girls in their teens or younger.  _Well, us plus Permilla._   Permilla liked to _brag_ about that, and no one else was inclined to disagree – either with her, or their father’s reasoning, because there was no way the woman quite willing to announce to everyone that they could either accept her life choices or get lost would have gone along with Zayeed’s newest ‘my word is law’ routine.  He hadn’t even been willing to listen to _Jolene_ , either at the time _or_ after Quatre left for Earth.  Camille had tried to change his mind after she’d earned her MD, but that had only ended with her sister breaking down miserably as soon as she walked into Laina’s living room and seen how hopeful they all were. 

            More than once in her life, Atia had found herself reluctantly agreeing with the screaming rant that had defined Janelle’s exodus from L4.  Their mother’s death had turned Father into a coward, bordering on delusional; and instead of pulling himself back together for the sake of his family he’d decided to break the rest of them into pieces that would match his own. 

 

_-_

            _“I can’t believe I was **worried** about you!” Janelle snarled, face blotchy from the tears streaming down her cheeks, neck and ears painted red with sheer rage.  “We would be better off_ _if you had just **followed her** after all!”  _

_“Nell!” Courtney snapped out reproachfully, for all that she looked just as upset._

_Anelisa started to cry; those little nearly silent, hitching, gasping breaths she did.  Her fingers wrapped around each other in knots, held tight to her chest as she dropped into a crouch to try to hide her face in the lap of her dress like they wouldn’t see.  Joyce’s eyes tracked her and her little face crumpled._

_“ **Ask us for help!**” Janelle practically screamed.  “We’re **here**!  You don’t even **need** to ask, even, just **stop** and we’ll fix it!  We’re **family** , Father!”  Her shoulders slumped, and she seemed to collapse in on herself a little bit.  “Don’t send us away.  You need us too.”  _

_Atia squeezed her eyes shut for a long second and took a deep breath, trying to stop from shaking because Camille was clutching her hand like she was going to disappear. **Isn’t Nell right?**   She opened her eyes again and stared down at their hands.  _

_Mother was gone now.  All they had left was each other._

_Joyce started to bawl.  “Oh, Honey,” Makenna murmured, reaching down to wrap an arm around her.  The six-year-old grabbed at her like she hadn’t been hugged in years; Atia saw Makenna wince, but a moment later she was reaching out to try to pull Anelisa in the same way, like she **wasn’t** curled into the tiniest ball of person she could be.  “Annie, come on…”  _

_Their baby sister flinched away, curling up even more.  “ **Hurts**!” she cried.  _

_Makenna frowned.  “Annie?”_

_“Let me try,” Courtney announced, face settling into something determinedly happy as she started to hum and crouched to run a tentative hand down Anelisa’s back._

_**It won’t work,** Atia wanted to tell her.  **Without Mother she just stays stuck like that no matter what until-**  _

_Anelisa unfurled in a sigh all at once, blinking her eyes open, happy and confused and hopeful all at once.  “Momma?”_

_Both Makenna and Courtney winced this time as all the girls’ heads swung their way.  Well, all of them but Janelle, who was still staring down Father.  “Sorry, Baby,” Courtney murmured quietly, pulling the five-year-old up into her arms and wrapping Anelisa’s arms about her neck, pressing the girl’s head to her chest and starting to sway like she was just a really big Baby Tay.  “I’ve got you right now, okay?”_

_“Wow,” Camille whispered, hardly louder than a breath, eyes big and fixed on the pair of them.  She took a step closer to her, reaching out with one hand, pulling Atia along with the other.  “Let me just-”_

_Father’s voice broke in.  “It’s only until-”_

_“Not good enough!” Janelle snapped back.  “Why is this so hard for you?”_

_Father’s voice finally started to pick up volume again, and Atia couldn’t help but shrink back. “He can’t-”_

_“ **No!** ” Janelle screamed, and no one bothered with trying to shush her now that Courtney and Makenna were wrapped up in little ones.  “Don’t you **dare** try that again!”  Jolene was so tense she could chew rocks, and Colait looked like she was about to tag Nell out for her own turn.  The twins, both sets, were just watching everyone with wide eyes, too afraid to say anything.  Tamelia was crying again…  and the rest of the teenagers had run as soon as the fighting started.  _

_Atia was starting to wish she had too, but she’d hoped that Father would listen to Nell.  It was **hard** to not listen to Nell when she got upset.  _

_But… it was just like with Permilla, two days ago.  Just like when Lilianna had packed a bag, kissed them all on the head, and just **left** yesterday like she wasn’t underage.  _

_Except this time the fighting was in English, and she could hear just how much all the words **hurt**.  _

_“This has nothing to do with him,” Janelle continued angrily.  “It’s **not** his fault.  That’s not how this works.  The only one who thinks Quatre will grow up thinking he killed her if he knows how much she **wanted** him is **you**!”  She stood up straight again, flicking her hair back over one shoulder with a toss of her head.  “You shouldn’t have custody of **anyone** right now.”  _

_Father’s jaw tightened, his shoulders straightened, and for a moment Atia thought he’d finally fight back – tell Janelle she was wrong.  Because he really **was** just sick from Momma dying, wasn’t he?  People got mean sometimes, when they were sick, and she still didn’t know how long it was going to be before any of them got better, but if they could all stay together then-  _

_“You can’t take him from me.”_

_Atia turned and buried her face into Camille’s shoulder, wrapping her arms around her tight.  He’d said it before… but she’d **wanted** him to say he was wrong.  _

_No one said anything for a long minute.  Camille hugged her back twice as hard, and Courtney shushed Anelisa, and Tamelia and Joyce cried, and cried._

_Eventually, though, it had to end._

_“So that’s how it is,” Colait decided, voice cold.  “All these years.  You told us you loved us.  You give us everything **but** your time and it just goes on and on.  You tell us you have these grand plans where each of us matter, and in the end, as soon the one person who **did** care gives up literally everything to give you the damn **boy** …  That’s it.”  _

_“Colait-”_

_“No, **Dad** , I was paying attention.  Nell just threatened to take away your children, did it with enough sheer **balls** to make you believe her, and you didn’t argue – you didn’t even **negotiate**.  You gave her **terms**.”  _

_“I just-”_

_“Fuck you, Dad.  No, actually?  Fuck you, **Mr. Winner**.  Because you’re right, Tricia checked, and we can’t take your **Heir**.  But we’re sure as hell not leaving without the babies.”  _

-

 

            She didn’t see Zayeed again for nine years.  The older sisters had split the little ones between them, and most of her sisters turned into something more like cousins as the family ripped apart and they tried to stitch it back together, piece by piece. 

            It had hurt.  They were a big family, but even after Lily ran away and Hollee said she wanted to live alone, there had still been sixteen of them left to raise. 

            But Loraina had been an amazing mom too.  When she had reached those doubting teen years, she’d felt bad about that, because her being with Laina meant Quatre never got to meet her, but…  Well, not everyone chose to cut Father out of their lives.  Laina had, along with the other five who adopted the little ones, but Courtney, the twins, and Tricia had stood between both groups, refusing to let go of anyone. 

            Well, except for Makenna; she and her girls disappeared entirely after that awful spring.  Joyce and Lucie could be dead or they could be someone she walked past in the marketplace; Atia would probably never know. 

            At least, with _Libra_ ’s Fall, their layers of separation had turned out to be good for something.  Absurd as it was, so long as Milliardo Peacecraft still believed he had every right to string their entire family up in a meaningless concept of recompense for their brother’s ‘crimes’, it was for the best that Winner women were difficult to spot.  Atia had been outed as a Winner Corporation Board Member out of carelessness, and Felicia with her because she had been visiting when the Regime came with warrants.  Sarali had been found because she hadn’t _tried_ to hide at all – well, other than being sure to bury her identity as an Etheridge beforehand.  Atia’s home identity had been saved by good habits more than intent; she had cleanly separated her current life from Abbey Bishop and made arrangements for its maintenance years before, when she decided to commit to the family business. 

            Peacecraft’s avarice for her family, however, was unacceptable. 

            For all that Atia had initially disapproved of Quatre running away in an MS – especially given the average life expectancy of fighter pilots, _God_ – with how severely Father had sheltered him, more than a few of them had gossiped about the likelihood of him calling the man’s bluffs and running off to sow wild oats for _years_ before it actually happened.  They all knew their father couldn’t afford to disown the boy, even temporarily; their rivals wouldn’t miss that kind of blood in the water. 

            _Iria_ may have agreed with Yuy’s ideals as much as Father did, but Colait was the only one with a gentle enough touch to allow her daughters to foster such impossible beliefs.  The rest of them just knew to smile and nod knowingly – or _leave_ – when Zayeed went on a rant. 

            He’d become _such_ a sanctimonious asshole over the years.  Pushing for total pacifism in a world that wanted see them all stripped penniless and dead in a back alley, acting like it was a model that had ever _worked_.  More than once, especially since Kilani’s death in 193, she’d wanted nothing more than to slap some _common sense_ into the man.  Preaching an ideal that promoted no action to further it was little more than pretty hypocrisy. 

            Quatre standing his ground and refusing to stand back due to _ethics_ in 195 had been absolutely _fantastic_.  Working with a branch of the Barton Foundation to do it?  That was going nearly as far as _Tricia_ , only he’d managed it without losing an ounce of righteousness – something their eldest sister would have laughed over, rather than bother with.  In that way, little Quatre had absolutely lived up to his namesake.  If the two of them had only had more time, Atia didn’t doubt that he would have worn Father down and won him over eventually. 

            Mother had rarely won quickly – not against Zayeed – but she her will _always_ outclassed his.  She would smile serenely and hold her ground and refuse to budge an _inch_ on her stance until everyone else surrendered.  Whatever the results of a battle, Quaterine Claflinn-Winner _always_ won the war. 

            Quatre had proven over and over again in 195 that he’d inherited the Winner intelligence; whatever Zayeed had botched with his upbringing, her brother’s grasp of strategy hadn’t suffered.  Enough facts about _Libra_ had been either released or leaked at this point that literally everyone knew Quatre Winner had mastered the predictive scope of the Zero System to the point that he had outmatched Catalonia when she wielded a more refined version of the System against them. 

            He had taken five suits against her legions and not only walked away but crushed her very _willingness_ to wage war.  _Winner mind, Claflinn compassion, and Mother’s quietly endless drive_.  It was no wonder Peacecraft was so desperate to find him – Earth’s new dictator had discovered _fear_. 

            She just hoped her baby brother could stay ahead of him.  Whatever it took, just…  _Be safe.  Stay alive.  We want to see you again someday.  To see you, and for once, be seen in return._

 _We’ll hold things together and wait for you to come home.  Because that’s what families **do**._   And if, in the meantime, losing contact kept them safe?  Atia trusted that they would wait for her, too.  Because though they were born Winners, they were just as much their mother’s children as Zayeed’s. 

            Case in point: today, she had successfully managed to negotiate more standing for the fragmented Winner Corporation Board, which meant more stability for the people of L4.  But in ten days, barring unforeseen complications, Felicia would slip away from the security teams watching her and disappear; Atia would likely lose any prestige the dictator might have let her gain now. 

            She didn’t care.  Currency was made to be spent, and her baby sister’s happiness was worth it.  Felicia was only ten months older than Quatre and only wanted to be an artist.  Not a politician, not a businesswoman, not even an actress; Felicia wanted to paint, to write music, and maybe raise children someday, and sitting Peacecraft’s gilded cage was _destroying_ her. 

            Sometimes she was a little jealous of the really youngest; Mother had adored them, but she had also groomed them all for status, laying expectations on their shoulders from the day they were born.  It hadn’t been for any ulterior motive.  It had just been how _she_ was raised – what had made her happy.  Planning bounties for each daughter’s future was just one of the ways that Quaterine had shown her love, and Atia, at least, _was_ happy for it; she liked working for her family. 

            But Loraina, as their _Mom_ , had let them grow wild in any direction they pleased… and there was something beautiful in that.  The oldest set of sisters all insisted that making mistakes and figuring out the consequences of them taught children important lessons, and instead of keeping them _out_ of trouble, they had focused on teaching the girls when to ask for help. 

            Anyway, if Peacecraft limited her influence again, more fool him.  Given past patterns, his most likely ‘punishment’ for securing Felicia’s autonomy would be to give control of a few of her better business contracts to her competitors.  They would stabilize the local economy in her place, giving rise to increased power outside of the Winner Corporation logo without any net change to the populace, making her concerns far less relevant. 

            Also, approximately seventy percent of the Winner Corporation’s ‘competitors’ these days were disenfranchised branches of her sisters’ businesses.  As they would be the ones collecting Felicia, it was doubtful they would miss putting _someone_ in a good position to receive Peacecraft’s windfall, and whoever he gifted would be regulated far less closely than Atia and Sarali.  If anything, the man’s attempt at collateral would result in a net gain. 

            Being underestimated would _never_ lose its novelty.  It was ever so amusing, watching people pat themselves on the back for working around you while accomplishing little more playing the fool. 

            Frowning at the clock, she realized Sara ought to already be home as well… and heard a background noise disappear.  _Oh, shower._   Looking around the kitchen, she decided, _Tea.  Tea sounds lovely._  

            When her sister came out of the bathroom suite in the little apartment they were sharing a few minutes later in nothing but a robe and a towel wrapped around her head, Atia was sitting in the armchair with a full tray on the ottoman. 

            “Hey, you,” the younger woman greeted cheerfully, reaching for the cup with its handle turned her way.  Taking a cautious sip, she hummed thoughtfully.  “Mm, mint and rosehips, huh?  Bad day?”  When Atia only scoffed and offered up a half-hearted glare, Sarali laughed musically, returning the cup and heading for the dresser.  “Well in that case, just give me a minute to set up the oils and we can make it a night to relax.” 

            Before living with Sara, she might have scorned aromatherapy, but now… some evenings, she rather appreciated the little touches. 

            After Felicia slipped the net, it would be too late to run for the hills – or to the resource satellites, as it were.  _I must have a masochistic streak._   Because no, she did _not_ bite off more than she could chew by volunteering to stay; that would imply that she was foolish, and if _that_ was the case then it certainly didn't bode well for the future.  _Chin up,_ she thought to herself, picking the tray back up and heading for the living room, turning on the television – she liked to watch the evening news each day as a means of keeping her finger to the media’s pulse, and if they were going to kick back the rest of the night, she’d best get the propaganda out of the way. 

            _Ooh, not publicity,_ she thought as the screen flickered on to show a serious woman reporting the from an overly pleasant desk scene next to a copy of Hilde Schbeiker’s OZ recruitment photo.  _Straight on to infamy._   A moment later the newscaster was replaced by a still from what was obviously a black-and-white surveillance camera of the same young woman, offering the lens a direct, raucous, devil-may-cry grin.  Now _she_ had jumped in without looking…

            But from the looks of it, she was thriving just as well as Quatre had. 

            _Be safe, little brother._   They couldn’t help him now, but he had to know that they cared. 

-

***

-

**December 2 nd 196 – Friday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            It was funny, really, how time could fly.  It had only been two months since Chaos had shown up, but Luc couldn’t help but feel a kind of companionship for him.  He was really a good guy… 

            Luc shook his head, a little disbelieving despite what he had been seeing.  A good guy who fought like the devil himself.  Their rough times leading up to him showing up probably made it even easier to like him, if he was honest.  In just _two months_ , he’d managed to make almost a legend of himself.  Hell, he’d gotten to be their fucking _mascot_ ; the Slingers _feared_ that grim figure in black.  The Slingers were all soldiers, but the longer he knew Chaos, the more he realized that whoever the kid used to be, Cal’s boys weren’t even close to being made out of the same stuff. 

            That popularity was as much trouble as it was good, though; last month, when he’d taken to putting streaks of red dye randomly throughout his hair, a couple of the kids had mimicked him.  Nolan had known better – he either hadn’t cared in the first place or Melissa had talked him out of it – but Ruben, Christiaan, and _Laura_ of all people had gone and done it.  A few sharp words from Luc had brought that nonsense to an end, at least; Chaos had gotten himself a reputation and there were more than a few idiots who thought they could prove themselves by beating him and would attack, given the chance.  He didn’t worry about the guy, he had more than proven that he could handle it, but he wasn’t about to have some cocky fool in his crew mistaken for the ex-soldier by a Slinger looking for a fight with the ‘Devil Incarnate.’ 

            Chaos actually seemed to shy away from the extra attention, for the most part.  He was prideful, confident, but he never _spoke_ of his prowess.  Sure, he humored the people who’d started to look up to him, and he had a playful way of talking, a way of making you like him, but… it was impossible to miss that deadly grace about him, and the dark pain in his eyes.  He never spoke of his past to anyone, but it was obvious that it still haunted him. 

            Maybe that was why he frequented the church so often.  That was another thing he never spoke of, but it seemed that if he couldn’t be found, it always turned out that he had been at the old chapel.  He was more attached to the place than Sin had ever been…  And that was alright.  He didn’t mind a churchman, really; there were worse sorts to get mixed up with.  His girl seemed to hate the newcomer, for all that she, too, was spending a great deal of time at that church.  But, truthfully, it was no wonder why; she was used to everyone melting under her, paying respect or awe, or at least having a liking to her, and Chaos, quite simply, didn’t give her any attention he could help. 

            He made sure nobody could really tell, but he was kinda proud of the kid for standing up to her.  That and it was about damn time she learned not everyone would just roll over for her; there were certainly worse people to learn it from. 

            He’d long gotten used to Sin’s flirtation with the guys, knowing nothing came of it; it was one of her ways of making sure he stayed possessive of her, that the idea of taking her for granted never entered his mind… but he had liked the rather resolute way Chaos had put an end to it.  She was irritable as of late, and largely he had been leaving her to her own devices; she probably needed to find herself or something after the newcomer had made her realize her sweet charm _was_ resistible.  She _was_ younger than she claimed to be, he was positive.  He loved her though… and everyone grew up early these days anyhow.  He didn’t bother trying to keep her from the chapel anymore; it _was_ safe ground, a place where any gang member could stand a foot away from each other and nothing would happen until they were a ways away from building.  The number of those with faith was surprising, and those with respect completely encompassing.  There would never be any violence done under that steepled roof, no matter how great a hate.  And then on top of that, Chaos was generally either there or in the area.  He would keep her safe. 

            In other circumstances, Luc might have found his trust in him perturbing.  But no one could deny the boy’s sincerity.  It was like his confidence, it just… radiated off him.  There was just something about Chaos that put you to ease, made you feel safe.  You couldn’t help but just… like him.  He was cool, he had a quick wit, a good sense of humor, he kicked ass like no one else, he treated everyone like he was their best friend, their only confide, the one person they could trust.  Everyone in their right mind both respected and adored him.  He offered companionship like a hand to help you up, and asked nothing in return. 

            If he had had any kind of actual ambition, Luc would worry about him taking control. 

-

***

-

            Three and a half months.  She was three and a half months in, and still broke.  Soon, it could become obvious.  She had to do something. 

            Trying not to think about it more, she snuggled closer to Cal instead.  He grunted slightly and continued to watch TV, momentarily tightening the arm he had around her in a sort of embrace. 

            …Luc would have asked if she was cold, and tucked the blanket they shared around her better however she answered.  Then again, they would never be in this situation, seeing as Luc didn’t have a TV. 

            Luc didn’t have a _lot_ of things… and sometimes he seemed to be more scared that she would break than he was affectionate.  He treated her like a little girl sometimes…  Cal, at least, respected her right and independence as a woman.  They fought, and he could be an insensitive prick, but he respected her for who she was. 

            _Is it Luc or Cal?_  

            Truthfully, there would be no way of telling even if she carried the kid to term and had it.  All three of them were blonde and blue eyed.  Facially, even, both Cal and Luc were largely alike.  They weren’t in build, but who was to say that a child would grow to look like his father?  Or was it _her_ father? 

            _Why am I thinking about actually **having** it?_  

            Feeling a sudden disgust rise in her, she threw off the blanket and stood.  “I’m going for a while,” she muttered as she stalked out.  She thought he said something in response, but she didn’t hear it. 

            She didn’t really want to go back to the Devils just yet.  She soon found herself back in the church; it had been her sanctuary for years now, and her feet took her there seemingly of their own will, sometimes.  Father Espen always found some way to comfort her, even if it was just with his presence.  He was gone in the back rooms now, though.  Normally she would wait for him, but…  she really just wanted to talk to him, today.  Biting her lip, she turned the handle on the door leading into the back chambers. 

            She felt more than a little out of place as she walked down the hall.  For all that she came to the church often, she had never been back here.  Scraps of ratty decorations hung over doorways and spotted the walls here and there.  She could hear Christmas music playing faintly somewhere, and…  children?  Giggles of children, and older laughter.  Curiosity and a bit of surprise pushing her on – what were children doing here? – she followed the sound to its source, and opened the door. 

            She was buffeted by music, much louder now, first.  Then she stood unnoticed and gaping at the scene before her. 

            It was some kind of little party. 

            There had to be at least twelve kids, ranging in age between two and thirteen, though most were on the younger end.  One tiny little girl sat happily bouncing on the lap of the church’s sole, gaunt nun.  A boy of fair height, probably the oldest of them, stood hunched over, grinning, trying to dance with a girl of about five who seemed to want to twirl near constantly.  But it was the other boy standing in the midst of the short crowd, wearing a ragged old Santa’s hat, laughing deeply and effortlessly tossing a little boy up in the air and catching him, that caught her attention. 

            She had never seen him like this, his cobalt eyes twinkling with genuine happiness as he spun suddenly, carefully mindful of the babbling children clustered around his feet, the boy in his arms squealing with glee.  He set the child down only to have him stumble and fall on his behind, dizzy, and suddenly every child was talking, pleading, tugging on the pants and sleeves of Chaos’ clothes, wanting the same treatment.  He just laughed again, deep and rich, before snatching up three and trying to spin again, stumbling and barely managing to remain upright.  His wheezing panting as he set them back down was somehow still laughter. 

            The oldish boy laughed at the sight, picking up the girl he’d been spinning around, ignoring her half-protesting kicks and giggles.  “Brother!” he called, hefting her.  Chaos turned to him and grinned back.  “Catch!” 

            The little girl squirmed and squealed at the notion, but no sooner had the boy swung her up, never intending to throw her, than Chaos lunged over and snatched her up.  She giggled delightedly as he mock-somberly told her that she had almost crashed to the floor and that she ought to learn to keep better company than her brother Amos.  A moment later he was tickling her and counting to three over her screams, about to ‘toss’ her back to the boy. 

            It was then, however, that he caught sight of Sin standing in the doorway, and froze. 

            It was only for moment, though.  The next, a grin was plastered back on his face and he restarted his count, finished what he was doing.  Then he stepped back and looked to the doorway, but really needn’t have. 

            She had already fled. 

-

***

-

            “Luc really won’t like it if they find you alone out here.” 

            “I can go where I please,” she growled back at him.  The hat was gone, along with his warm attitude.  It was the Chaos she knew, but… it almost hurt to see, now.  “Besides,” she added.  “I’m not alone now, am I?” 

            After a moment, he came over and sat next to her, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.  This was the park where he had first appeared, she realized.  They just sat there for a while, neither talking, then…  “Why did you run?” 

            She flushed.  “I never even knew the church had children who frequented it.” 

            “They live there,” he corrected quietly.  Then, even softer, “War orphans.” 

            “From the Gundam war?” 

            “Yeah,” he whispered hoarsely. 

            There was something inordinately dark about his mood, and after seeing him in the church… she hated it.  Grabbing at the first topic that came to mind, which she later realized wasn’t all that smart of an idea, she said, “I’ve never seen you so happy as you were in there.” 

            He shrugged, his long ponytail falling over one shoulder.  “Churches bring back a lot of memories.  I was a war orphan myself.” 

            She blinked.  “And you lived with a church?” 

            He nodded, a faraway look in his eyes.  “For some three years, till I was ten or so, I think.  Maybe eleven, looking back now.”  At her look, he shrugged a bit and said, “Before that I was just on the street, under the wing of an older kid who tried to keep his crew in good order.  I don’t remember any life before that… no parents or anything.”  He sighed.  “Some of those kids in there are like that, they won’t remember anything about their folks, but most of them knew what families were like.” 

            “My parents died when I was six,” she announced softly. 

            “I’m sorry,” he replied easily. 

            A pause.  Then…  “I’m pregnant.” 

            “…Congratulations.”  His face was impossible to read. 

            “It’s not the first time it’s happened.” 

            “…Ah.”  There was too strong of a note of comprehension in that.  “Why haven’t you told Luc?” 

            She bit her lip.  “I don’t know,” she lied after a moment. 

            “Ah…  You think it might be Cal’s?” 

            The world spun.  “You know?” she hissed. 

            His smirk was humorless.  “A suspicion, Sin.  My thanks for the confirmation.” 

            “You’re going to tell Luc?” 

            A pause, then, “No.”  She breathed again, and he continued, saying, “It’s none of my business.” 

            “…Thank-you.” 

            He just shrugged.  “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I wish you luck anyhow.” 

            “I _don’t_ know what I’m doing,” she whispered. 

            She absolutely hated that understanding “Ah.” 

            They just sat there for a while, neither talking, each lost in their own thoughts, before finally Chaos stood.  “Come on,” he said, reaching down a hand to help her up.  “We’d better go home before one of Cal’s guys tries to break my face in.” 

            It was only later that night that she really realized that he had initiated the physical contact there… that there he had began to treat her like anyone else in the gang instead of someone to be wary of.  He knew what she was…  and it was okay, somehow. 

            She slept well, for once. 

-

***

-

**December 2 nd 196 – Friday – Unknown**

            He eyed his gun for a moment, seriously contemplating the idea. 

            All it would take was one shot. 

            But that would wake Quatre up, and alert everyone nearby as to their location, and the blonde Arabian would have to make a run for it.  He really didn’t want to put his old comrade in hot water. 

            Still, the cold, black barrel looked eerily appealing.  With it, he could end everything, the pain, the degradation, the pressure on Quatre…  Without Heero, he could actually find a way to really hide and lay low for a couple years.  Without Heero, he could start over. 

            If he could get away once the gun went off and the police came to investigate the noise.  If he could handle the incident, and its aftermath, at all.  Quatre wasn’t exactly renowned for his mental stability. 

            So no, he couldn’t; Quatre had to go on, if nothing else.  Just the same, the thought wouldn’t leave him as he tried to sleep. 

            One bullet, one small piercing, and that would be it.  He could make it so all he would feel before the end was a simple prick. 

            He threw the gun across the room to join Quatre’s blanket, which he had tossed off almost an hour before.  It looked a little too attractive, just then. 

-

***

-

**December 18 th 196 – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            Her jeans were too snug. 

            She wasn’t any closer to deciding what to do…  Except, of course, she now knew what she _couldn’t_ do. 

            She had begun spending more time with Chaos and realized that most of his free time was spent at the church, with the orphans.  There, he was always the carefree jokester, a klutz, though she suspected the children could tell that his clumsiness was an act to make them laugh.  She had never thought twice about it before, but after all those days spent with those children… 

            She couldn’t kill it. 

            She didn’t know what she was going to do, but even the debate of which gang leader was the father had stopped bothering her.  It didn’t matter which was the father; it was _hers_. 

            She wasn’t sure what exactly had sparked the sudden possessiveness, but she suspected it had something to do with the way Chaos seemed so utterly content in the church.  It made her crave something, even while she knew she had no way of making this all end well, something… she’d forgotten how to have.  Maybe.  If she could get that, somehow… anything could be worth it. 

-

***

-

**December 22 nd 196 – Brussels, Belgium**

            “Merry Christmas, brother.” 

            Milliardo Peacecraft turned and smiled warmly at the girl.  “Relena,” he greeted, moving over to pull her into an embrace.  “I hadn’t known you were coming.” 

            “I wanted it to be a surprise,” she returned, smiling brightly.  She wore a black turtleneck and a traditional plaid skirt, along with black tights and stylish, heeled boots.  Her golden earrings were long and dangly, strings of tiny bells. 

            “I’ll have rooms prepared for you at once,” he reassured her easily.  It really had been a long time since he had seen his little sister.  She seemed almost… radiant.  Much better than when they had last met.  Her time in retreat had been good for her. 

            “Thank-you.”  She tilted her head to the side and smiled a little abashedly.  “Do you think perhaps they could be ones that I could keep for a while?  I’ve missed living in one place, and…  I think perhaps it is time for me to begin learning about the world as it is now.” 

            “Of course,” he answered easily, masking his surprise in another smile.  She was staying to learn?  Excellent.  She really was budding to be a lovely woman, a lovely princess, future queen.  In a few years, she might really be in full blossom and ready to take up her stead.  The world needed someone like her. 

            Not every rose had to have a thorn. 

-

***

-

**December 23 rd 196 – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “Chaos?” 

            They were walking home from the church now, and it was dark.  Snow was falling, and not for the first time, but it wouldn’t last long; snow never lasted long in port cities. 

            “Yeah?”  He had become much friendlier with her over the past three weeks.  They seemed to becoming actual friends…  He showed the same sort of friendship with the rest of the Devils, but none of them knew who he really was.  What he showed them was a mask… well, not quite, it wasn’t false… but it wasn’t everything, either.  Who he really was only came to the surface when the orphans were around.  And sometimes, just every now and again… when only she was. 

            “…I’m keeping it.” 

            He nodded, not breaking stride, though he slowed down a little so that they would have longer to talk before reaching their destination. 

            She licked her lips.  “I don’t know what to do, though…” 

            “Tell them both,” he muttered quietly, waving merrily at a passing gang member heading out for the night. 

            “What?”  She was wide-eyed at the idea. 

            “Tell them both,” he repeated.  “Let both think it’s theirs.  Play for some time, and work the rest out later.” 

            She nodded a little bit.  It seemed to make sense, when she stopped to think about it… 

            “Luc first,” he continued.  “Tomorrow, at night.  It’s Christmas Eve, tell him you were waiting until then to say.” 

            “And Cal?” she asked in a whisper. 

            “New Year’s.  The church has a vigil that night; tell Luc you want to stay for it, I’ll vouch for your safety.”  He glanced at her sideways.  “If anything goes wrong, that’s where I’ll be.  What’s your story for why you live with Devils?” 

            “I live with my brother there.  It’s easier for me to stay there, and I don’t want anything to happen to him.  Cal understands.” 

            “Good.  Does your brother know you’re sleeping with a Slinger?”

            “I don’t have a brother.” 

            “That’s not the point.  Does he know?” 

            She eyed him with a sudden new respect.  “Yes, and tries to keep everything hush hush about it.” 

            “You’ve told Cal that before?” 

            “Yes.” 

            “Make sure he lets you leave after midday, or else your brother will send someone to come look for you.” 

            Sin swallowed.  “You can’t,” she whispered hoarsely. 

            “I can,” he countered, his eyes flashing a brief violence.  “Just make sure he understands that.”  They entered the sector where the Devils all lived, and he swiped his fingers down the edge of his dark baseball cap to her in a sign of farewell.  “Merry Christmas, Sin.” 

            The important message was in his eyes, though.  _‘Watch your back.’_  

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, conversation?


	5. Hard Candy Delusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quatre fails to have a meltdown, and we all learn why maybe Duo shouldn't take people shopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the last of the prompted chapters; brave new world from here on out, also known as when I looked at this almost one year after finishing the prompts and decided it could be /really/ fun.

**_-_ **

**_ Hard Candy Delusions _ **

_\--_

_Trigger_ _Prompt: Cough drops_

_\--_

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**January 5 th 197 – Thursday – Tibnin, Lebanon**

            It was one of those days…  One of those kind where you just felt like curling up in a little ball and dying, because everything just sucked so bad.  The world was a terrible, hopeless place, wrought with horrible things and nasty people, and sometimes it just felt like either you or the rest of the world needed to _die_. 

            And he’d _tried_ the rest of the world before.  Well, the colonies, but really, same difference. 

            Shivering, Quatre shoved his hands deeper in his pockets and tried to walk a little faster.  He had no idea where he was going, what he was doing, but he hoped that he could maybe get there a little faster and get whatever it was done. 

            He sighed.  _Who am I kidding, anyhow?_  

            Heero was dying.  He wasn’t sure if he had fled out here to try to find a doctor or a priest. 

            But then, how many times was it that Heero was “dying” now?  For that matter, how many times was it that he had been “dead”?  The point was moot, only Duo’s opinion remained: the man couldn’t be human. 

            _Duo’s dead, and Heero has staff infection,_ he reminded himself coldly.  _Trowa’s gone, I’m a fop, and Wufei probably went and got himself killed._  

            Sighing, he ducked into an alley and leaned against the wall.  He couldn’t do anything about the others, but Heero… 

            He just wished he could find some kind of miracle cure.  Something to make everything better, soothe you, clear everything up…  But only children could ever believe it was so easy.  Only children could ever believe the cough drops made the cold go away… 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands – Devil’s Den**

            “Hey, Luc?” 

            Turning away from Shov, Luc spotted Chaos leaning against the doorframe and grinned.  The other man’s hair was loose for once, and it looked… funny.  “Yeah?” 

            Chaos grinned back companionably, shaking his head a little to toss the mid-length locks back over his shoulders.  “Making a run to the store for Father Espen.  Anything you want me to get while I’m out?” 

            His accent had been improving, though it was still there.  His mastery of Dutch had been improving too; he slipped into English less often, now. 

            That wasn’t the only thing that had changed.  Despite the fact that he hadn’t been around for four months yet, people treated him like he had been their friend his entire life.  He took the meaning of gang being closer than family directly to heart; even Sin had finally stopped being so cold towards him. 

            That thought made him wince.  “Chocolate?” he suggested

            Chaos laughed.  “She that bad?” 

            Luc rolled his eyes.  “You know how she’s been, every little thing pisses her off to high hell.  She’s not talking to me again.  I don’t even know what I did, this time.” 

            Shov grinned at that, moving over to lean against one wall.  “Your fault, there.  You’re the one who knocked her up.” 

            “I’d heard pregnant women were scary, but shit, she’s outright insane,” agreed Luc. 

            “It’s making me think I might join up with Father Espen and claim chastity for life,” admitted Chaos with a wink. 

            The Devils’ leader made a throwaway gesture.  “You’re just scared of sex, admit it.” 

            “I’m an inexperienced, shell-shocked soldier boy,” Chaos returned with a smirk and a mischievous glimmer in his eye, crossing his arms.  “Do you have any idea how few virgin sixteen-year-olds there are in this city?  I don’t feel like embarrassing myself.” 

            Shov grinned.  “Go find a whore, then.  She won’t care.” 

            Luc laughed.  “No, he actually _is_ scared of whores.” 

            “Damn right I am.” 

            Shaking his head, Luc asked, “Do me a favor?” 

            “Hm?” 

            “Take Sin with you.  See if you can get her to calm down a bit?  And get her whatever she’s gotten a craving for this time…” 

            “Pickles and ice cream?” suggested Shov. 

            “Peanut butter and chicken wings,” replied Chaos, pulling a hair band off his wrist. 

            “Don’t forget the chocolate syrup and eggs,” muttered Luc as he dug his wallet out of his pocket and tossed it at Chaos.  Despite the fact that he been looking in a different direction, continuing to toss some of Sin’s more bizarre cravings back and forth with Shov as he tied his hair back, he snatched it out of the air without a glance. 

            He always did things like that.  It made Luc wonder why White Fang had been stupid enough to let him go in favor of the dolls. 

            “What were you getting for the church, anyhow?” he asked, sitting down. 

            “Some medicine stuff,” Chaos said easily.  “I’ve had some luck lately, and they could really use it.” 

            That was another thing; Chaos didn’t work, but he usually had money.  He had freely admitted to being a rather good pickpocket when he was younger, and that most of his belongings were “acquired” rather than bought.  He also claimed to be a pretty good gambler, and with his luck, Luc didn’t doubt it.  There were a couple of past incidents he had mentioned that had made it clear he would be an excellent burglar as well; it seemed like if he decided he was going to get into a place, he would, and that was the end of the story. 

            But he also made it clear that anything that actually made it into the church was bought from a store. 

            “Just take it out of my wallet,” Luc said with a yawn.  “Maybe Sin’ll cut me some slack.” 

            “Alright.  I’ll go find her.” 

            After he’d left, Shov asked, “Does that ever worry you?” 

            “Does what?” 

            “Chaos.  He’s almost always with your girl, these days.” 

            The other man shrugged.  “It’s because he doesn’t take any shit from her.  They get along because she can’t play him like a fiddle.  The guy won’t bother with her usual games, so she has to act different with him.” 

            “You sure?  You never… suspect or anything?” 

            He pursed his lips, thinking about it for a minute before shaking his head resolutely.  “No.  He treats her like a little sister.”  He shrugged.  “And honestly, if you ask me, he’s either as messed up from the war as he claims, or he’s gay.  Maybe both.” 

            “He fights like the devil himself,” commented Shov, almost grudgingly.  “But his eyes are just fucked up when he scraps.  It’s like he enjoys it or something.” 

            Luc paused.  “I think he’s killed more people than he wants to remember.  He must have risen really high.  Even with the dolls, I can’t figure why they kicked him out…  He must have really pissed someone off.” 

            “Or killed someone important,” muttered his second. 

            Luc shrugged.  “He seems damn determined to bury who he was, at any rate.  You can’t honestly tell me that a man who spends his time in a church and helping teach our fighters better techniques is going to kill us in our sleep.  He’s the most loyal guy I know.  He just _tells_ you when he won’t talk about something.” 

            “True…  I just feel like he’s a little too good, sometimes.  Especially with the shit he’s capable of.” 

            “Yeah, I get what you mean.” 

-

***

-

**Tibnin, Lebanon**

            Quatre was… disturbed, again.  It was happening more often lately, and he kept stalking out to have time to himself now that they’d found a relatively safe abandoned building in Lebanon. 

            It rankled that the safety factor was almost entirely for his benefit; he just wasn’t improving anymore which he was willing to admit an ominous sign, considering how nasty the wounds looked.  His leg didn’t look infected yet, but it was inflamed, and if he was regressing- 

            “The others are all dead, aren’t they?” Quatre asked suddenly. 

            Heero frowned, before actually considering the question.  He didn’t have to ask who his comrade had meant, not after trust the five of them had to gain in each other at _Peacemillion_.  They had been closer than he had ever dared to get to anyone since Odin, even if he knew that those like Quatre or Relena would think it meant little, considering how little they knew of each other.  But they had all shared the Zero system at some point or another, and they had survived to get into the late stages of Operation Meteor, and they had _all_ defected from the original plan of action…  There were too many coincidences there to deny there was an element that bound them together. 

            The little information he had managed to procure from the new Peacecraft Regime’s databanks before being found by their hacker, months before, was hardly conclusive; and it wasn’t as if they didn’t all know how to go completely to ground.  Even with the elements turned against them, they would not have made it so far as they had if they couldn’t handle the fallout from _Libra_.  And while he and Quatre were together and the rest likely separated, _they_ had made it through so many close calls now, even with him holding them back. 

            No…  He didn’t have Zero to run all the scenarios for him, but he didn’t think they could be dead, or at least, not all three of them.  “We’re not the only ones left,” he told the blonde man decisively, trying to gauge his mood again.  It was something he had become more practiced with in the past year, but he had let go of enough of his pride to admit that he possessed no talent for the skill, or at least he would not until he had more practice.  After the retraining…  It was hard to remember all the facial expressions outside those necessary for determining hostility, but he was trying, now, to push past that barrier.  It would be detrimental to ignore such a vital part of humanity, now that he was no longer a weapon. 

            He had to be something else now, because he _refused_ to simply be a broken tool.  He had adapted before…  He would find a way to do it again. 

            Quatre didn’t respond but had a faint smile that lacked humor, and was leaning against the wall with his eyes shut… possibly trying not to break down, for which he was grateful.  He wasn’t entirely sure he could handle the blonde in one of his more violent mental breaks with his leg in the state it was.   The way he had been moving the past two weeks suggested a sort of repressed hostility. 

            He didn’t understand why Quatre was thinking about them, though; they had enough problems by themselves now, and he doubted the blonde could honestly afford the depression.  Hopefully it would pass soon… as he was fairly sure Quatre had decided not to believe his answer to the question about the other pilots.  He was determined to feel bad today, apparently. 

            Well, so long as he didn’t do something stupid, that was his business. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “Alright, how much do you know?” 

            Sin blinked at the aisle of baby stuff.  “Um, not a lot.”  

            Chaos grinned.  “Well, you won’t need bottles, but diapers are going to be your best buddy for something like three years.”  He motioned over at a different section.  “When it starts eating real food, you can mush stuff instead of buying this expensive shit, but that’s pretty self-explanatory.  Same with everything else, actually.  The baby detergent’s nice, they can get rashes when they’re little from normal stuff, but it goes away, if you can’t afford it.”  He grinned at her and walked back out of the aisle, swinging the basket he was carrying. 

            She followed him, frowning.  “Rash?” 

            “Yeah.  They can scratch up their faces too, their nails grow fast.  You can buy mitten things, but it’s just as easy to rip up a shirt that’s not good anymore and make them.” 

            “You sound like you’ve done this before,” she accused. 

            “I helped out a lot with the younger kids my church took in, when I was little.  Someone dropped a baby on the doorstep once.  Sister Helen showed me the ropes, and I took care of the kiddo as much as she did.” 

            “What happened to it?” 

            He shrugged.  “Babies get adopted really fast.  They got her to some couple with fertility problems a few months after we found her.” 

            She blinked.  “That’s kinda weird, isn’t it?” 

            “Not up in the colonies; it’s actually a pretty major issue, up there.  Space radiation, no natural sunlight, all that.”  At her shocked look, he smirked.  “Didn’t think I was a colony boy, huh?”  He chuckled and motioned to stop walking.  “Alright, how about medicines?” 

            “…They help when you’re sick?” 

            “Okay, you really are sad.”  He handed her the shopping basket and crouched down on to read labels.  He picked out a little pink and white bottle and held it up she could see it.  “Baby Benadryl,” he explained.  “Fever reducer, decongestant, and does great with allergy problems.  You don’t give straight Benadryl to a kid; you wait until they’re at least ten for that, it’s too strong.”  He tossed three bottles into the basket, then grabbed an adult one and tossed it in too. 

            After that, it was Tylenol, a thermometer, Pepto-Bismol, and a cough syrup.  Apparently, they were the all encompassing types of medicines, one-for-all fix-‘er-alls.  Then disinfectant gel, pain numbing disinfectant spray, Band-Aids, some ace wrap, gauze pads, a little flashlight he felt he needed to test the brightness of by holding one of her eyes open and shining it in for a few seconds, and a little sewing kit.  Everything came with a description, including the obvious things, just because it was funny, except for the kit, which he seemed to add almost without thinking. 

            “Sewing?” she asked skeptically. 

            He blinked at her, as though it was the most absurd question she could possibly ask.  “Stitches.” 

            “… _Stitches_?” 

            “Well, _yeah_.”  He shook his head a little and grabbed another little kit. 

            She decided to drop it, and he went to go get an economy size pack of tissues.  On the way back, though, he walked down a different aisle, and almost squealed with delight.  “Cough drops!” 

            Trying not to giggle at his reaction, she walked over to him.  He had put the tissues down and was examining what seemed to be a million different kinds of the things.  “Cough drops?” she repeated.  “Do they actually do anything?” 

            “No, not really,” he replied, grabbing a bunch of different flavors and tossing them into the rather full basket. 

            “Then… why?” 

            “They’re a good distraction, and they taste good.  It’s like candy or something, so you get a treat for being sick, you know?” 

            He picked up the tissues and started walking out of the pharmacy section, and Sin followed as he kept trying to explain.  “It’s like… the cough syrup is actually what works, but kids think the drops do the same thing, because they help while they last.  So you give them cough syrup, then let them have at the drops until the syrup kicks in, so they’re not pouty about being drugged.”  He turned down the office aisle, and grabbed a roll of duct tape.  Gesturing with it absentmindedly, he went on  “And it keeps them out of the drops when they’re not sick, because they think it’s actual medicine.” 

            “Okay…  And duct tape?” 

            “It’s cheaper than med tape and works just as well.” 

            “Ah.” 

            He grinned broadly.  “Now, can you think of what we missed?” 

            She blinked, and began looking through the basket.  “Um…  Advil?” 

            Chaos’ eyes went wide, as though she’d said something bad.  “No.” 

            “Why not?  Tylenol good, but ibuprofen’s better for headaches and sore muscles and stuff.” 

            “That’s because it thins the blood, messes with clotting.  It’ll make you lose more blood.” 

            “…What?” 

            He paused, seeming to realize how odd that must have sounded, but a second later, his carefree grin was back.  “What we missed was some rubbing alcohol.  It hurts, but it’s the only way to _really_ clean something, and you can use it to disinfect.”  He snapped his fingers, remembering something else.  “And we need a lighter too.” 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**


	6. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which acting a part can have unexpected results - especially when no one decides to take you seriously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hey, the actual plot begins! This was after I stopped running with it and started to come up with an actual plot/plan beyond vagaries…

**_-_**

**_One Step Forward, Two Steps Back _ **

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**January 16 th 197 – Monday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “Chaos?” 

            “Father,” Duo greeted cheerfully, glancing up from the papers he was shuffling.  “You should be in bed.” 

            “Sophie had a nightmare,” the priest returned dismissively.  “What are you doing?” 

            “Checking in on what bills you’ve been paying,” the young man admitted unabashedly.  “Seeing if I can’t cut them down a little.”  He grinned at the incredulous look the other gave him.  “I’m from L2, Father, and any blueblood colony brat can teach the toughest misers how to penny pinch.  Although of course,” he taped a paper with a pencil, “I think I’m starting to see why old Father Maxwell never complained about my dislike of bathing.  And why the good sister romanticized candles so much.” 

            Father Espen chuckled a little at that, coming to look over the boy’s shoulder.  He’d penciled a few things into the margins of the last few months’ bills.  “We get enough from the state that I can afford to keep my children _clean_.” 

            Chaos shrugged a bit.  “I was thinking Amos is old enough to wash with me and the rest of Luc’s lot in the communal shower the Devils’ve got set up.  He’s thirteen, and he can’t fit in a tub with the little ones anymore.” 

            “…I don’t want that boy getting in with the gangs, Chaos,” the priest started quietly.  “I’ve been trying to get him an education, I’ve almost worked out an apprenticeship for him for this summer, and-” 

            “And that boy knows I’ll slap his mouth the moment he says more than hi, bye, please, or thank-you with any gang member besides me,” Duo interrupted, “and worse if I ever find out he does anything more extensive than ‘how do you do?’  Well, maybe not if it was Nolan, but you _know_ Nolan, the kid doesn’t care about anything but books, and I hear he lived here for a while at one point too.” 

            The priest pursed his lips.  “He did, before Luc pulled Melissa into creating the Devils with him.”  He sighed.  “I know Nolan is a good boy and it’s good for Amos to have a friend his own age.  I know that altogether the Devils are not up to any trouble, but the _reputation_ matters.  I don’t want Amos to come across any roadblocks in his life because of something questionable in his history; the Lord knows how hard the boy will have to fight for a good place in life to start with.  And if he finds a way to simply make it by now when he still has the chance to gain an education, I could never forgive myself.” 

            The American teen shook his head.  “Believe me, Father, gang life is the last thing I want for him either.  Honestly, I’d love to see him following your footsteps, but the problem with that,” he gestured at the cluttered desk, “is that there isn’t any money in it.”  Sighing, he dropped his pencil on top of everything.  “I never want that boy to learn how to fight.  Someone jumps him, he’d better get licked.” 

            “That’s an odd thing to want,” Espen noted clinically. 

            “Anyone that touches him has a date with their maker, if you catch my meaning.”  He scooted back his chair and stood.  “Take a look at all that once you’re more awake; you might be able to scrape a little extra next month and buy the kids some books.”  He pushed the chair back in and hugged the old priest.  “And get some rest, Father; you’re going to get sick if you don’t stay careful of your health.” 

            The Dutchman returned the hug warmly, then watched the boy walk away.  He doubted he was really the sixteen years of age he claimed, and knew enough about his childhood to know that Chaos doubted it too, but he was more responsible than most middle-aged men he knew…  “Chaos?”  When the almost pretty, blue-eyed boy turned back to look at him, he couldn’t help but ask, “Why don’t you ever try to get an honest job?  I know you don’t have a social security number, but so many places don’t care anymore…” 

            The boy paused, seeming to fight with himself for a moment before shaking his head.  “I’m…  I couldn’t, Father,” he decided eventually.  “It’s too dangerous…”  He shrugged a little.  “And I like the thrill.  …I like to fight.”  He paused again before muttering, in English, “Some people, they fight so long they’re scared to stop.  Can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout what might be waiting around the corner for you if you don’t keep your edge.” 

            “Honest men don’t have anything waiting around the corner for them, Chaos,” the priest returned softly.  “You’re a good boy.  You take care of people.  Defending the Devils, as your new family, is fine enough, but the gambling and theft… that doesn’t have to stay, Kay.  You could live honestly, start out on a clean slate.” 

            Chaos chuckled darkly.  “Father, my slate’s so dirty it couldn’t ever be made clean again.”  His smile was sad.  “Don’t worry about me.  Just get yourself some sleep.” 

            And with that, he was gone. 

-

***

-

**January 26 th 197 – Thursday – Brussels, Belgium**

            There was a delicate giggle behind him, “Milliardo, are you in the same room as me?” 

            Milliardo turned in his chair and smiled apologetically at his sister, who was giving him a skeptical look.  “Technically?” he offered. 

            She laughed again and came over to see what he was doing.  “Show me.” 

            She always took such a study to everything now… she really had meant it when she told him she had come with the intent to learn.  The attention she gave every topic he brought up, the way she never seemed to forget a single detail…  Relena would make an excellent queen, once a stable system was established.  “Just daydreaming, truthfully,” he admitted with a sigh, leaning back in his chair and spreading his hands.  “I’m sorry, Lena…  What had you been saying?” 

            She rolled her eyes, seemingly annoyed, but grinning at the same time.  Holding out the menu for the little café a block away from the complex, she suggested, “Mutton?” 

-

***

-

**Jerusalem, Israel**

            “I’m really sorry to be doing this…”  There was a sound of a gun cocking.  “But I’m going to have to ask you to step back inside the building, doctor.” 

            Dr. Samuel Srona froze in the middle of locking the door to his clinic.  “My wallet’s in my back pocket,” he muttered quietly.  “There should be a couple hundred in there… but the rest is in the bank.” 

            The young man seemed to pause, licking his lips.  “That’s not what I meant, doctor.  My friend… he was hurt in the war, but we can’t go to a hospital.”  He swallowed.  “There are rumors about you in the underground, that you don’t care which side your patients fought on.” 

            Samuel started to turn, trying to remember what time it was.  _Moira’s going to kill me…_   He hadn’t made it to dinner on time all week.  “Where is your fri-” 

            A hand slammed hard into his shoulder, forcing him up against the wall.  “Can I trust you, doctor?  Can I trust that you won’t try and turn me in once you see my face?” 

            Sam found himself fighting the temptation to laugh.  These boys were so touchy sometimes…  “Christ, kid,” he muttered, “All I want is for less people to be hurting.”  This seemed to be an obsession point with half his patients anymore; he’d worked out what speech to give over a _year_ ago.  He was in the business of helping the less fortunate with this after all, but he wasn’t looking for the types who would shoot him as soon as let him treat.  “I’m not going to turn you in for the Peacecrafts to execute, not after I patch you up.  And besides, if you’re worried that a reward would tempt me, keep in mind that I make more money in a year than you could dream of.”  The candid arrogance was usually a good touch, made them less skittish.  He shrugged his shoulders a bit uncomfortably.  “Where’s your friend?” 

            The boy actually laughed, full-throated, as he let him go.  “I already took him in through the back door…  And you’d be surprised at how much I know about money.” 

            Sam stared in shock at the old heir to the fabulously wealthy Winner Corporation.  The gundam pilot.  “Good _Lord_ …”  He fumbled for his keys to open the door back up.  No wonder the kid was so uptight; the new government didn’t have the clearest of pictures for most of the gundam pilots, but all they’d had to do for Winner was ransack a few of his sisters’ houses for his school photos.  “How bad off is your friend?” 

            “I’m not sure…  he was in a partial cockpit explosion that last battle…”  He sounded hesitant. 

            So his friend was another gundam pilot. 

            “Normally he heals fast… he’s the type to reset his own bones… but I think his leg is deeply infected.”  He paused again.  “He hasn’t been able to put weight on it at all for almost three days.”  When the doctor gave him an accusatory look, Quatre just glared back.  “He refused to let me bring him before now, and he can still kick my ass even if he can’t walk!” 

            This time it was Sam’s turn to laugh, and he did, throwing his clinic door back open.  The blonde’s affronted look was just priceless… the topic even more so.  “Well, let’s see what I can do, then.” 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            Duo actually _tried_ to grin crazily at the kid who opened the door for him.  He hadn’t thought Cal even had anyone younger than eighteen in his group… but then, Hilde had been recruited by OZ with no fuss at fifteen, so it really shouldn’t have surprised him that some of the soldiers Cal kept were young.  “Boo.” 

            “What the fuck are you doing here?” the Slinger brat demanded, shuffling his feet a little apprehensively.  Another guy stood nearby, and altogether obviously was even closer to bolting.  Duo fought the urge to roll his eyes.  _Doesn’t even have the guts to talk back to me._   Honestly, he _hated_ soldiers…

            “Not to rip your den to pieces, so don’t go starting rumors,” he returned sarcastically.  “I’m a chaperone service tonight; Demitri wanted me to take his little sister and nephew-to-be home.”  He raised his brows.  “Real worried about her, all alone in a pit of Slingers n’ all…” 

            “So why didn’t the brother come?” 

            “Maybe a group of Slingers spooks him a bit,” Duo tossed out casually, before meeting the guy’s eyes solidly.  “Or maybe he just knows you all know better than to fuck with me.” 

            When he took a challenging step forward, the guy practically leaped back.  “I’ll go find Cal,” he muttered, racing off and leaving his jittery friend to guard the door. 

            “You do that!” Duo called after him, leaning into the doorframe and looking to the other Slinger.  “Hi.”  When the kid on tightened his grip on his blade, the ex-pilot muttered, “Relax, I don’t bite.”  When he still got no response, he added, “Hard.”  When he _still_ got no response, he rolled his eyes.  “Ah, come on, smile or something, huh?  I’m _trying_ , you know…” 

            He just looked at him with the sort of confused look that made Duo wonder if he was speaking the right language.  It wasn’t like he hadn’t learned enough of them during his training… but he was _pretty_ sure he’d been using Dutch… 

            “So I finally have the honor of meeting the infamous Chaos…” announced a muscular, blonde man as he came to the door.  Sin was a step behind him. 

            “And I suppose I have the honor of meeting the infamous Cal Slinger?” Duo returned half questioningly.  They guy _was_ muscular, but he’d taken down heavier men.  He looked like he was around twenty-five, was blonde, blue eyed…  And actually, despite the differences in their builds, he looked a lot like Luc.  But then, so did Sin. 

            “I’m not sure how you’ve managed to stay in this city for four months and never see me,” the other man returned, also half questioning. 

            “Never saw reason to,” Duo returned with a shrug.  With a slight flourish, he produced a pint of Ben & Jerry’s from his coat.  “Triple mudslide fudge,” he told Sin, twirling the carton on one finger and pulling a squeeze bottle of strawberry sauce from seemingly nowhere, to the untrained eye.  “And the works.  Your brother’s half afraid that if he sent me for you any later you’d catch your death from the weather, but he still told me to fetch some ice cream before I came.”  He raised a brow.  “What I’m wondering is how much of it is him wanting to avoid wrath, and how much is bribery.” 

            Sin giggled, jumping forward and snatching the treat, as Cal laughed appreciatively.  “You _did_ interrupt a showing of  Mayday Affairs.” 

            Duo tilted his head questioningly, tucking a spoon behind her ear.  “That’s a chick flick, I’m assuming?” 

            “It’s good!” she protested, pulling the spoon out of her hair and yanking off the lid on the ice cream.  “You should let me stay another twenty minutes and-” 

            “If we’re much later, Demetri might have a fit and go tell Luc I must’ve gotten ambushed trying to unkidnap you from a group of Slingers,” Duo noted pointedly, drizzling the strawberry sauce over the very chocolate ice cream.  “And that’s just a mess I don’t think I’m ready to deal with.”  He met Cal’s eyes.  “You know she’s safe with me; can we go?” 

            “You interest me,” Cal said instead, pursing his lips.  “You move like you’re ex-military.  Which faction?” 

            “War’s over a year done,” Duo sneered.  “What does it matter?” 

            Cal shrugged.  “Most of me and mine are ex-military too.  Luc’s just got a bunch of street rats fighting for a piece of sidewalk.  Why did you decide to ambush mine instead of his?” 

            “Maybe I don’t like a guy who names his gang after himself,” snapped the other.  “And maybe I liked being a street rat more than I liked the war.”  The Slingers’ count of ex-soldiers had been one of the first reasons he ruled them out.  He shifted his weight and _felt_ everyone tense… then relaxed again and shrugged.  “But then, maybe I just like being called a Devil.  Has a sort of fun ring to it.”  Moving backwards, he tugged at Sin’s coat.  “Can we go now?” 

            Cal gave him a roguish sort of grin.  “Sure, kid.  Like you said, I know she’s safe if you’re watching her…  Maybe bring her up here instead of to the church, next time.” 

            Duo shrugged again as Sin stood on tip-toe to kiss her lover good-bye.  “I’ll think about it.” 

            “Don’t think,” muttered the other, fiddling with a switchblade.  “Just do.”  He tossed the weapon in his general direction, and Duo caught it by the blade before he could consider why Cal would risk upsetting him… before it occurred to him that it would have landed two feet to his right, in the floor.  The older man just grinned.  “See?” 

            Duo scowled and threw the thing back at its owner hard, intentionally embedding it in the wall a scarce inch away from the blonde’s ear.  Well, where his ear had been, before he dodged.  “See?” he returned mockingly.  He snorted, tugging at Sin’s coat again and stepping off the porch and out into the snow.  “I said I’d think about it.” 

-

***

-

**Jerusalem, Israel**

            Quatre jumped when something landed in his lap, realizing he’d fallen asleep… and blinked at the rather hot plastic…  something. 

            “Come on, kid,” the doctor teased gently, looking up from his stool, which happened to be sitting in between the cot Heero was on, and a counter with a microwave.  “I thought every teenager was supposed to recognize microwaved burritos.  When was the last time you ate?” 

            Quatre ripped the packaging open and sunk his teeth deep into the refried beans and tortilla medley of things… that still tasted vaguely like plastic.  “Can’t remember,” he mumbled around his food.  His stomach suddenly felt so _empty_ …  Wiping at his mouth, he admitted, “Can’t exactly go into a store and buy anything…. Even if I had money.”  He jammed the rest of the thing in his mouth and swallowed hard before licking his fingers.  “The clerk will have called the cops three seconds after I stepped through the door.” 

            “Ah.”  The doctor threw another two burritos in the microwave.  “It might help if you could get some hair dye…  Some contacts.  A tan.”  He smirked a bit.  “I could give you some astronomical amounts of carotene and you wouldn’t be pale anymore, but you’d look sorta like Ernie.” 

            “Ernie?” 

            “You know, Sesame Street?  Bert and Ernie?”  He smiled.  “My little granddaughter… she loves that show.  Well, not Bert and Ernie so much.  She’s more of a Cookie Monster fan.” 

            Quatre grinned back.  “Everybody loves Cookie Monster…  And believe me, if I could get my hand on some hair dye, I’d do it.” 

            “Ah, that cabinet, over there,” the older man revealed, pointing to it then gesturing to the gray in his hair.  “My wife, she keeps trying to get me to get rid of this… I think I make her look old by starting to age myself.  But I don’t really care too much; the gray’s part of who I am, now.” 

            Quatre smiled appreciatively, standing and going to the cabinet.  “Thank-you…  You’re trying so hard to help us…”  He looked to Heero worriedly. 

            “Yeah,” admitted the doctor seriously, looking back to his patient.  “Three more days and he probably would have been dead.  We can avoid amputation most times these days, the drugs have been so specialized… but he’ll always have a limp.  And it’ll be a long time still before he can do that, I had to excise a good amount of necrotic tissue.”  He tilted his head.  “I’d suggest coloring his hair too.”  He mimed the pilot’s facial features maybe an inch above them.  “His color’s wrong for it, but his face, his build… he’s Asian.  Give him black hair, a cane, maybe a couple gray highlights…  Nobody would ever know it was him unless they were right in his face.  You, though…”  He tilted his head.  “Have you considered trying to get any prostaglandins?”  At Quatre’s questioning look, he shrugged.  “It’s a drug they use sometimes for glaucoma patients…  It usually does the trick, but it turns your eyes brown for at least a few months.  Sometimes, it’s permanent.”  He met his eyes seriously.  “I would suggest looking into that, with those bright blues of yours.” 

            “Do you know where I could get some?” 

            “I’ll ask a friend of mine tomorrow,” he replied almost dismissively, hitting the microwave door to open the second it dinged.  “I met him back in med school.  He’s an ophthalmologist a few miles down the street.”  He tossed the burritos at Quatre and stood.  “Can I trust you not to bring trouble here tonight?  Your friend needs to sleep, and I don’t want the Peacecraft Regime breathing down my neck any more than you do.  My wife’s going to be raising all sorts of hell by now, I’m over two hours late to dinner.” 

            “I won’t cause any trouble,” Quatre reassured him, ripping into another packet of reheated burrito.  “I can sleep here, right?” 

            “Sure thing kid.  Do me a favor and use the shower down the hall too.”  He pulled his coat on.  “I’ll see you in the morning.  I usually get here first, but if I don’t, try not to panic my nurse.  She’s used to the rougher sort coming through, but…  you’re a bit of a shock.”  He grinned at the teenager’s amused expression.  “Good-night.  There’s a couch in my office that I nap on sometimes.  It’s my recommendation for the night. 

            Quatre chuckled a little, his mouth full of food.  “Thank-you…  Good-night.” 

            It was the best day he’d had in a year. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “So what’s your problem?” asked Sin plaintively. 

            Duo rolled his shoulders a little.  “Keep in mind that I _didn’t_ pick his gang.  He’s dangerous.” 

            Sin snorted and took another bite of ice cream.  “You’re dangerous.” 

            “Yeah, but I don’t think I’m a threat to my existence yet,” he returned sarcastically, burying his hands deeper into his pockets.  It really _was_ cold…  “If I bought some hair dye, would you help me redo my roots?” 

            “You hair’s not black?”  She seemed genuinely surprised. 

            “Not really, no.  Will you, though?  I can’t get just the roots on my own, and I don’t feel like redoing the red, else I’d just dye my whole head.” 

            “Alright,” she agreed cheerfully, digging her spoon back into her treat.  “It won’t make my hands black, will it?” 

            He chuckled a bit.  “The kits come with gloves, Rina.” 

            “Shh!”  She looked around surreptitiously.  “I don’t care when we’re in the church, but-” 

            “There’s no one within earshot,” the boy reassured her. 

            “How can you tell for sure?” she demanded hotly. 

            “Just trust me, there isn’t.  That kind of thing is my specialty.” 

            “So’s everything else,” the little blonde grumbled. 

            He laughed again, softly.  “No…  Believe it or not, most of my friends in the war could seriously kick my ass.” 

            Sin started giggling.  “Oh really?” 

            “Yeah, I think it was everyone’s favorite diversion tactic: hit Chaos.” 

            “Diversion tactic?” 

            “Yeah…  the weird thing is, it actually worked.”  He jogged down the steps that led to the old hostel the Devils had renovated into a proper den, and opened the door for her.  “Come on, before we freeze…”  Sin rushed through the door obligingly and Duo followed, stamping his feet hard on the entry rug…  before realizing the main room was full, and Luc was standing there staring at him. 

            _Oh shit…_ he caught Sin pausing in his peripheral, then relaxing as Luc gestured at her…  though the gesture was to move away from Duo.  _So she’s not caught…  but what am **I** in trouble for…?_   He looked around the room, and there was some definitive confusion in some faces, disgust in others…  _What the hell…?_   Aloud, he asked, “What’s going on?” 

            Luc pursed his lips.  “Chaos…  I have a question.” 

            _Oh shit, they figured out who I was…_  

            “ _What_ the _hell_ ,” 

            _Oh God..._  

            He held up a very dirty, very long braid of chestnut brown hair, “is this?” 

            Duo blinked at his old braid for a minute.  “Um…”  In the back of his mind, a little voice was sighing in relief…  another was laughing hysterically at the situation.  The rest of him was trying hard to figure out what to _say_ , and failing miserably.  “That’s mine.” 

            A few sort of bewildered chuckles sounded around the room as Luc rolled his eyes.  “I know it’s _yours_ ,” he returned acidly.  “Laura found it by your bed, halfway out of your backpack.  What I’m asking is whose _was_ it, and why do _you_ have it?” 

            “Uh…”  He brushed up his bangs than ran his hand over the back of his head to tug at his ponytail, which, while nowhere near the length of the braid, was starting to get abnormally long.  “It’s mine…”  At Luc’s very level look he chuckled a little more nervously and held up his hands in a sort of surrender motion.  “Swear to God…” 

            “Chaos,” Shov muttered from off to one side, “This is really fuckin’ weird.” 

            “I think it’s more awkward than weird,” the old pilot returned, shrugging uncomfortably. 

            “Then explain to me how it’s just awkward, boy, because I’m getting really creeped out here,” Luc growled dangerously. 

            “Um…  I didn’t cut my hair until seven months ago?”  Everyone was still looking at him funny.  “Like…  maybe someone cut it when I was a baby, but nobody ever put scissors to it since I was at least three…  But then I was on the run and I didn’t want Zechs to find me, so I cut it off…” 

            Duo didn’t bother counting how many jaws dropped at that one, instead pulling his ponytail over his shoulder and combing his fingers through it nervously.  It was only something like an inch shy of his bellybutton, really, but he wasn’t sure if he could make himself cut it up again…  “I just couldn’t…”  Hell, he still slept with it wrapped around his hands…  “I’m starting over, but I couldn’t burn it because…”  He wasn’t ready to really let go of everything just yet…  His fingers slid through the end of the ponytail and he buried them high up again.  “It’s…  it’s who I was…”  Sister Helen had given him the braid…  He shook his head, finally paying mind to the voice that was screaming at him to just shut up.  Silence ensued, and he just continued to fiddle, not meeting anyone’s eyes. 

            Sin was the one who broke the shocked silence.  “So that’s your original hair color, huh?” 

            “Yep,” he muttered with some forced cheer, still focusing on the hair still attached to his head.  The ends _were_ really split…  it wouldn’t be so much of an issue to take off a couple inches…  And really, hair was just hair in the end, he put a higher value on his survival…  But… 

            “Shit,” Luc muttered quietly, eying the plait.  “I don’t know if I’ve ever heard of a _girl_ with hair this long…” 

            It _had_ almost been to his knees when he’d finally done it.  “Zechs’ is longer?” he offered. 

            Everyone just started laughing at that, and the atmosphere returned to its normal, casual tone.  Duo laughed too, taking his piece of history back from Luc and heading back to the closet he slept in these days. 

-

***

-

**February 15 th 197 – Wednesday – Jerusalem, Israel**

            Quatre wandered the night, feeling somewhat carefree.  It was about three in the morning and he didn’t expect to see anyone, and even if someone caught a glimpse of him, it shouldn’t matter.  His hair was colored a rich, chocolate brown, and it had grown enough in the past fifteen months that he could almost manage a ponytail like Wufei had had.  The good doctor had insisted on Heero staying in the clinic for the past three weeks, and Heero was hardly in any condition to argue.  Mrs. Srona had also insisted on cutting their hair so it looked half decent instead of a year past the need of a trim. 

            They needed to move soon, though.  Dr. Srona and his wife, the charming nurse named Nina… they were good people, and didn’t deserve whatever trouble might come down on their heads if it was found that they had helped two gundam pilots.  Quatre made it a point to stay away from them now for the most part, only coming in to visit with Heero and sometimes the doctor late at night.  He wasn’t going to bring the world crashing down on their heads, after so much kindness. 

            He rubbed irritably at his eyes; they itched like crazy these days.  The drops he put in them were hellish in some ways, but they were doing the trick; his bright blue eyes were gone, replaced by soft honey caramel ones.  And when the doctor’s wife had trimmed his hair, she had spun him about and looked at the tags on his raggedy shirt and jeans before returning a few hours later with a few changes of clothes for both he and Heero.  The months of life on the run had gotten rid of what baby fat was left on his cheeks, and he’d somehow managed to grow a few inches during that time, so he actually looked like any respectable, middle class eighteen-year-old.  He smirked.  _Now if only my **face** wasn’t on all those wanted posters…_   Still, he felt safer than he had since the destruction of _Peacemillion_. 

            Later, he would scream at himself for daring to be so relaxed.  The sound of a shoe scuffing only gave him a moment’s warning, and by then the piece of old t-shirt drenched in chloroform was already over his nose and mouth. 

**-**

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	7. Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Settling in to a new place doesn't mean you won't find old friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a random yet not note, characterization is really important to me. I want to point out that some time has passed and hey, the mid to late teenager years are major development stages. I think I changed a lot between fifteen and eighteen, and I was one of the most balanced fifteen-year-olds I’ve ever heard of. I’ve seen so many people change their personalities entirely in the space of a year… but yeah. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and reviews are always nice.

**_-_**

**_Old Friends _ **

**-**

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**April 21 st 197 – Friday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “Eight ball, corner pocket,” the demon muttered, indicating which one… and sunk it. 

            “Asshole,” Mik returned in a sort of sullen, good-natured way.  He dug into his pocket for some bills. 

            Chaos waved a hand at him.  “Don’t worry about it.”  Mik’s brow furrowed, but the other man shook his head.  “You couldn’t afford that last bet and you know it.”  When his friend still looked unsure, he added, “Come on, I already won enough off you tonight.” 

            Any other protest he might have made was cut short as Luc stepped into the bar, and, seeing as they were in Devils’ territory, he was cheerily greeted by most everyone there, Duo included.  His grin was genuine too; if Luc’s hair was a little longer, his eyes a little darker… he’d look just like Solo. 

            The gang leader smiled back and returned hellos, calling to the bartender that he’d like his usual, and heading over to the pool table.  “Okay, I just got off work, what’s your excuse?”  He started racking up the balls for a new game. 

            The ex-gundam pilot rolled his eyes.  “I’m not due in ‘till eleven.”  He ran his gang like Solo had too… which was to say he ran it like a crew, not a gang; he supposed it had only gotten listed off as that because they had so many teenaged members.  His goal was to keep everyone alive, healthy, and as happy as he could manage.  The family sort of atmosphere really _was_ there, and not just in a kinda sorta kind of way; Luc, Mik, Shov, ‘Liss, Laura… they’d cover for him, and not just in a fight or heist.  Dan, Hans, Robby, Nic, the rest…  Nothing would hurt them if he could help it.  He taught them everything he knew of how to get by in the world, them and the rest…  and left the others to show them more when he thought his experience might lead them in a bad way. 

            Some of his skills…  They didn’t need to live on to a new generation.  Zechs was a nutjob, no doubt about it, but he was holding everything together well enough, not technically oppressing anyone, and so long as the prince kept his thirst for wholesale slaughter in check, Chaos had no problem with keeping his head down and living out his life away from all the action. 

            It was sorta sad though…  he was thinking of himself as ‘Duo’ less and less now.  He was changing, moving further away from the promises he’d made as a child… 

            _I’m sorry, Solo…  But I’m going to do it right this time._   Picking up the chalk, he decided, “I’ve got just enough time to beat you once before I go.”

            “Mm, sounds good, sounds good,” Luc mused, organizing the balls in the triangle.  He glanced over to Mik.  “How much’d he score off you?” 

            Mik snorted.  “Too much.” 

            Luc laughed.  “The trick is that you expect to lose with him, that way if he screws up a shot, you’re in for a pleasant surprise.”  He looked back to the man he was beginning to really think of as a little brother.  “What time are you off again?” 

            “Ten.” 

            “I have _no_ idea how you do that,” Luc decided, shaking his head.  “That has to be the most hellish shift I’ve ever heard of.  I mean…”  He blinked at him, realizing something. 

            “I won _one_ game,” Mik announced triumphantly as he noticed their leader’s shift in attention. 

            Chaos shrugged, tugging at the ponytail, whose end didn’t quite hit the bottom of his shoulder blades.  “It needed cutting anyhow.” 

            Luc smirked, noting the way Chaos was pointedly not meeting his eyes.  He hadn’t actually noticed the difference in hair length until just then.  “That’s not what I meant.” 

            The brunette started to snicker in response.  “She insisted.  How am I supposed to turn down a pregnant lady?  Besides, she said she’s done it to you a couple times, so you have no excuse to talk!” 

            “What?”  Mik looked confused. 

            Luc’s grin widened.  “It looks good.” 

            He started laughing harder.  “Just shut up!” 

            “What am I missing?” Mik demanded, looking back and forth between them. 

            “Well, you have to agree…”  Luc started to snigger himself.  “He looks good in eyeliner, no?” 

            “Oh my God,” Mik muttered, eyes huge as he finally realized registered what had seemed off… and burst out laughing.  “Oh my _God_ …” 

            “Shut up…” 

            “Hey, at least she didn’t hit you with the sparkly shit,” Luc consoled, still sniggering, 

            Chaos just shut his eyes.  “She has _sparkly_ stuff?  God help me…” 

            “Yeah, well it’s sorta alluring on _her_.” 

            The other snorted.  “Well _yeah_ , she’s a _chick_.” 

            Mik slapped his thigh.  “Oh man, you guys are nuts…” 

            “No, his _girlfriend_ is nuts.  She’s the one attacking people with the stuff.” 

            “Why haven’t you washed it off yet?” 

            Duo smirked.  “Well, like you said, it _does_ look kinda good…” 

            The other two just doubled over. 

-

***

-

**April 22 nd 197 – Saturday – Brussels, Belgium**

            “Why, Miss Relena…” 

            Relena’s insides jumped at the voice, but she didn’t let her surprise show; shock or surprise wouldn’t get her anywhere with this adversary.  Instead, in a calm voice, she announced, “If would like to chat, Dorothy, I would appreciate it if you’d shut the door.” 

            “Of course,” the other woman returned genially, stepping in and locking the door behind her.  “Though I must say, I cannot help but be surprised that I found you here, of all places.” 

            “Kindly don’t play coy with me, Lieutenant Colonel Catalonia,” the princess ordered, pushing away from the console she’d been working at and turning to look at her face to face.  “Are you intending to tell my brother you found me searching the records?” 

            The blonde tilted her head and pursed her lips, considering; the look reminded Relena rather strongly of a cat eying a mouse, but she held her ground, raising her brows.  She was calm, composed, unworried… and perhaps a touch impatient, a little annoyed that she had been interrupted.  That was what she wanted Dorothy to see. 

            “Would it really make a difference if I did?” she asked finally, her voice curious. 

            Relena paused a moment as though to consider it herself, then shrugged.  “Probably not, no.  It would mean I would have to waste a rather large amount of time and effort, however.” 

            Dorothy chuckled softly, looking down.  “He’s underestimating you, Miss Relena.”  Her tone was a kind of intrigued whisper.  “They all are.  But not me.”  She shook her head.  “I know you better than that.  You’re so strong…”  She pursed her lips again, looking around Relena to the console.  “What were you trying to find out anyway?” 

            “Why should I trust you?” Relena returned just as coolly. 

            Dorothy shrugged.  “Mr. Milliardo…  sometimes, I realize he’s…”  She offered a sad smile and tapped her temple with one finger.  Sighing, she added, “On the one hand, I swore my loyalty.   But…”  She shrugged.  “He intends you to rule after him, does he not?” 

            Relena hesitated over what was verging on a pledge of fealty.  Dorothy came from an old family, and, like Milliardo, if she made such a vow she would mean it with all her being.  But Dorothy was also a wild card, to put it lightly; she was no one’s puppet. 

            But Relena didn’t need a puppet; she needed an ally.  And as Milliardo’s second in command, Dorothy was a rather powerful ally.  Her support, or lack of it, could very likely determine the success or demise of her plans.  “You will follow me?” she asked in a soft but still commanding tone.  Dorothy was not one to be swayed by gentle words; she had learned that back when the blonde had attended her school in Sanc.  If only she had realized it soon enough, perhaps the other girl would never have gone to Milliardo, would never have worked the Zero system herself…  ‘What ifs’ got her nowhere, however.  She focused solely on the woman in front of her, steeling her voice.  “You will do as I ask?” 

            “I swear, on my honor as a Catalonia, to serve and protect you, Miss Relena,” she returned formally, offering what would have passed for a curtsy, had she been wearing a skirt; it still looked elegant in pants.  Looking up, she added, “However you wish.” 

            Relena stared at her for a moment, taking in the glitter of almost feverish excitement in the woman’s eyes… and accepted.  She was taking on a wild wolf, one likely to carry a form of rabies… but the other girl’s obsessive personality didn’t have to focus on war; the last ten months had proven that.  If she was given a focus, she worked steadily, strongly…  And they were both only just seventeen; it was a general rule of nature that the more psychotic side of her fervor would fade with time. 

            As for now…  Well, fanatics generally _were_ the most loyal of followers.  And loyalty was the thing she needed the most, just then. 

-

***

-

**Jerusalem, Israel**

            “I haven’t seen your friend in a while.” 

            Heero shrugged a little, continuing to knead his thigh.  He was sitting on the couch of the doctor’s house, where he’d been staying for the past few weeks, ever since the doctor had decided that he had been in the clinic longer than was usual, and that it would be a better idea.  Mrs. Srona had started telling all her friends that they’d entered into an exchange student program before that, and how no, it wasn’t an open program they could get into, he’d been with another family, but then there had been a nasty car accident and the man’s son had died, so he’d needed a family to transfer so they could deal with their grief…  Yukio was such a quiet boy, and he needed crutches for a while, but he wanted to finish the length of his stay.  Oh, no, his English wasn’t very good… and he was so shy, such a hard worker, most of the time he just kept his nose in his books, sitting by the window upstairs…  I think he was close to that other boy, but he doesn’t want to talk about it.  Let’s just let him cope in his own way, you know how the Japanese are… 

            It was a fairly convincing story, really. 

            But… Dr. Srona was right, he was worried about Quatre too; he’d disappeared before Heero’d moved into the house.  “He might have realized we had a better chance of keeping ourselves hidden if we split up,” he muttered after a moment.  He didn’t believe it, though; it wasn’t in Quatre’s nature to ever leave a man behind, doomed or not. 

            “He seemed a little too concerned about you for that,” the doctor returned softly. 

            “He… can be a little unpredictable.”  But generally only when he was verging on a breakdown….  Or had gotten one of his truly genius ideas.  Maybe he _had_ just realized that without his presence, Heero might be able to fade into obscurity for a while… 

            But he didn’t believe it. 

            But then, what else could have happened? 

            “We… we would have heard something if…?” 

            Heero bit his lip, letting the doctor know he was thinking about it.  He didn’t know that either, though.  Zechs’ determination to execute them all had come fairly out of the blue, once the battle had been lost; it was entirely possible that he might change his mind once he actually had one of them in hand… especially if what Heero suspected was true.  The man moved politically as though he was still hooked up the Zero half the time, and that was worrisome, efficient in a sort of erratic manner… 

            They were lucky that the Zero system hadn’t been designed for uses outside of battle, or else he suspected they would all be in a more pleasant sort of stranglehold by now, instead of the not quite insane ambition and sometimes resourcefulness he’d shown thus far.  An additional downside, if he was actively using Zero, was that it would likely protect him from all assassination and coup attempts. 

            But it could just be that Zechs’ mind was warped from its past use and Heero was making too much of the situation.  He’d been raised to rule, after all; he could just have a point of view on governing that Heero couldn’t conceptualize. 

            He _missed_ Zero. 

            “I’m not sure,” he decided at last.  “But if he’d been caught and tortured, they would already have found me.” 

            Which meant he was dead, had managed to lock himself back inside the less sane part of his mind before telling them everything, or that Zechs had decided torture was too crude a tool for his finer sensibilities. 

            “…There’ve been some murders lately too,” Moira Srona muttered softly, coming in from the kitchen.  Her face was concerned, but hard; she was a gentle woman, but understood the world they lived in.  And she understood that it might be better for the young man staying in her home if his friend had been murdered before the government could find him. 

            He doubted that Quatre could have let his guard down far enough for a common killer to have access to him.  But if that was the case?  That still left him dead. 

            So he had run, was dead, or he was insane – or a bare step away from it.  _The story of Quatre’s **life**._  

            _…The Srona family’s brand of sarcasm is catching._

            “I only know what you know,” Heero told them simply.  “I hope he ran on without me, but all I can say is…”  He shrugged.  “He’s gone.  The same as I’ll be as soon as I’m sure I can run fast enough that they won’t catch me and lead them back here to you.”  He knew his tone generally didn’t allow for the emotions he meant, so he added, “I appreciate your hospitality, Doctor…  but I’ll appreciate your safety more.” 

            The couple nodded seriously, Moira going back into the kitchen to put the finishing touches on supper and Samuel moving off the couch to squat beside him and test his leg’s range of movement.  Again, it was a fact that they didn’t like, but fully understood, and were smart enough to not argue about.  _Now if only Relena had ever taken that excuse at face value._  

            …He missed Relena’s misplaced passion.  It had been the only thing that kept him going, most days… and however stupid that may have been and however weak it made him feel to want it, he missed that moral support.  He had liked thinking that he was doing the right thing, following his heart, like Odin had told him to, instead of orders, like Heero always did. 

            …He’d change his name if he wasn’t worried about developing separate personalities because of it, although, truthfully, that might be a good thing.  Healthy, even, considering his current predicament, but unfortunately, that kind of pleasant dementia also had a tendency towards convenient amnesia, and he couldn’t afford to forget his training; there was always the chance that someone might recognize him.  Trowa had been lucky not to be found my old enemies, instead of allies. 

            And he was going to live long enough at least to make sure Relena succeeded Zechs; he’d decided that once he started truly going downhill.  After that…  Well, he’d figure that out when it became relevant.  He didn’t have enough information for a contingency plan, and he rarely ever used those in any case. 

            “Sam, Yukio, dinner’s ready,” Mrs. Srona called happily. 

            “Think you can make it to the table on your own, or do you want help?” asked Sam curiously. 

            “I’ll walk,” Heero returned evenly, standing up without his crutches and tentatively putting weight on his bad leg, gauging how much it could handle.  He _could_ have run to the damn table, but he’d do more damage in the process, and dinner wasn’t _that_ imperative.  He couldn’t help but smirk when he realized that it was stronger than it had been in a while… and he could probably walk with barely a limp. 

            A lot of the reason it had gotten so bad as it had was because he had had _no_ idea of how to engage the muscles and begin his own rehabilitation; that, at least, was solved now, and he knew better than to assume now.  Smirking more, he took a few steps and looked back to Samuel. 

            To say the doctor was impressed was an understatement.  “You’re healing at an amazing rate,” he noted, moving up to stand beside him.  “I didn’t think you’d do that for another few weeks.” 

            Heero shrugged a little; he hadn’t expected any less of himself.  Still, he couldn’t help that little part of him that felt warm when Moira saw him and started absolutely beaming. 

            He was going to miss them, when he left. 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium**

            “So does he know where they are?” 

            “I’m afraid a lady such as myself is not privy to that information, Miss Relena,” Dorothy returned, her moody glare at her tea the only indication of her irritation.  “Mr. Milliardo knows that my heart might be somewhat… split… on the subject.”  She shifted her shoulders and smiled flirtatiously at a man walking past the deli they sat outside; they were the only patrons who had chosen to lunch on the patio, chill as it was.  He smiled back, but kept walking. 

            Relena raised a brow at Dorothy, wondering at the woman’s taste, but opted for spreading a slice of brie on another cracker.  “That’s unfortunate, but I suppose it can’t be helped.” 

            “They have what’s left of the first and fourth pieces,” the other woman noted thoughtfully.  “I saw that with my own eyes; no sign of the owners, though.  But,” she tapped her cup with one finger, “that was over a year ago.  We’re fairly sure another made it to Greenland, but it was never confirmed and is hardly relevant now.” 

            Relena nodded.  Greenland… whichever one of the boys it was, he could have as easily have drowned or been stranded there as have escaped. 

            “Otherwise, there are almost always rumors about them,” she continued.  “I’ve seen a report or two suggesting the underground may be working on a gundam, but nothing solid enough to pursue.  Really though, the machines are something of a legend; and a fail-proof scare tactic, of course.  Those reports are likely just information being intentionally leaked to keep the Regime on its toes.” 

            “How big of a threat are they?” Relena asked curiously, leaning forward; this would be far from forbidden talk.  She _was_ supposed to be considering all her options for the future of the Regime, after all. 

            “It’s hard to say,” Dorothy admitted.  “Lady Une’s execution instigated quite a strong response; you’d think she hadn’t been comatose just days previously.  It had to be done, of course, but it certainly raised poor sentiments.” 

            Yes, Colonel Une’s execution…  Milliardo had arranged it shortly after he had blitzkrieged the World Nation, still fumbling for recovery plans after the virtual shelling of the planet by manmade meteorite.  Leaving her alone would have incited a rebellion with her leadership, imprisoning her would have been too high of a liability when they still didn’t know where each man’s loyalty lay, and so he had simply removed her; and accidentally made her a martyr to the cause.  Relena wasn’t sure exactly what she thought of the situation anymore; a part of her was glad the woman was gone, but… well, she had been highly influential, and her loss was one less card to be stacked against her brother.  When she wasn’t in a varying state of psychosis, she had genuinely been a good person. 

            _…Sometimes, anyway._  

            “The more pressing threat, however, are not those who oppose us; it is those who are taking advantage of Mr. Milliardo’s… lack of reach.” 

            Relena swallowed.  “How many of the stories are true?” 

            “Because they have no organization, it would be even harder to evaluate them than the rebels.  Summer didn’t come last year and we’re not entirely sure this one will be worthy of the name either; too much strain on the atmosphere, I’m afraid, and it leads to hungry people, which leads to more poverty and desolation.  Gangs and syndicates have nearly overrun all the major cities in Europe, mobs are no longer uncommon… and of course, there’s the worst of the rumors, some of which _have_ been confirmed.” 

            The planet was going ballistic… it was all very well for the people of the colonies, who were already self-sufficient, but all the wreckage raining down on Earth had seriously screwed up the weather.  It was too cold… people were just trying to ignore it.  That, or they were taking opposite extremes to heart and creating new societies of their own, some of which were all very well, but some… 

            They didn’t have the manpower to try to manage the masses, which were getting more and more out of control.  The planet was melting into a state of anarchy, and if they didn’t manage to pull it all back together soon, not only was true peace an absolute impossibility, but even something resembling civilization.  Milliardo was trying to manage and contain it, but his successes seemed to be minor. 

            “It’s an old, complicated recipe.” 

            Relena blinked at her.  “I beg your pardon?” 

            Dorothy shrugged.  “The final result is simply divine, but then you get the recipe and the instructions are in ancient Egyptian, and even if you manage to translate it, you have no idea where to find the ingredients.” 

            …There was more than a touch of truth in that analogy.  “I guess it is.” 

            “I was never a terribly good cook; I suspect your brother’s like most men, though, and could manage to burn water.” 

            Relena smiled a little at that, moving to take a sip of her tea.  “I think I have to agree.” 

            The other woman smiled back… then sighed as her phone began to ring and pulled it out of her pocket.  “Catalonia speaking.”  Her brows drew together as she listened.  “Oh?  Of course…  No, no we’re not far, just wait.”  She motioned at Relena to get her things together.  “Thank-you for informing me so quickly, I’m with Peacecraft, where is the transport headed?  No, the younger, and she could use the exposure…  Yes, I’m sure.”  She tossed Relena an annoyed sort of look.  “We’ll be there in twenty.”  Flipping the phone shut, she snatched up her scarf and wound it around her neck, starting to rebutton her coat. 

            “What’s going on?” 

            “A Class A felon turned up and is being moved to Amsterdam for interrogation,” she explained briskly, snatching up her keys and moving back towards the car.  “A healthy level of paranoia means they won’t give any details except in person, so we’re going, _now_.” 

            Class A meant it could only be a handful of people.  “Do you think it’s one of them?” 

            “It might be.”  She hit the unlock button.  “Get in, Miss Relena; your brother’s busy with matters in the colonies today, and I would very much like a chance at whoever they found before he makes up his mind about what he wants to do.” 

            “You think he might do something drastic?” 

            “I think he doesn’t know his own mind nine days out of ten, and I want an in before he decides his morals,” she returned shortly, starting the engine.  “It’s not a crime, my Lady, it’s tact.” 

            _Tact with teeth…  But I wouldn’t expect anything else from Dorothy._  

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “I’m breaking into the prison compound,” Chaos announced loudly as he came into the main of the Den, looking everyone over.  “Am I going alone or will somebody cover me?” 

            “Why?” Luc demanded, standing. 

            “They caught an old friend who’d do the same for me,” he snapped back.  “I’d like some help, but I’ve pulled off this kind of shit by myself before, I’m _going_.  I _remember_ how prisoners were treated in the last war, and I doubt it’s changed much.” 

            Luc was staring him down, trying to come to a decision, but Sin noticed others already moving for their weapons.  “Ski mask it,” she cautioned. 

            “Exactly, we don’t want anyone getting the idea it was Devils,” Chaos agreed, yanking off his beanie and twisting up his ponytail so it wouldn’t show.  “We’re making it look like rebel work.”  He motioned at Sin and she pulled her barrette out of her hair for him to use. 

            “And if anyone gets caught?”  Luc was obviously nervous, but relenting. 

            “Then I pull the same stunt for them only just me and we lay a false trail heading out of town.” 

            “And if they don’t buy it?” 

            “Believe me, I can make it look like Sally Po herself ordered it.”  He was digging through his bag and clipping on weapons.  “I’ve already done some shit here and there that’ll make it look like the Sweepers are in town; a group of people moving like us will confirm the rumors.” 

            “I’ve been hearing rumors about Sweepers for weeks,” Laura noted. 

            “Which is why I picked it,” Chaos returned easily, looking them over.  “Valio, Laura, you’re actually coming in with me, here,” he tossed them some gloves.  “Everyone else is covering for us coming back out; just need to hold our route open.  They tried to be sneaky about this, so they don’t have too many people out on it; shouldn’t be too hard.” 

            “I’ll come,” Luc decided. 

            “Laura, give Luc the gloves, he’s at my back first.  Dress in black, fast; we don’t have much time before the higher ups get here, and then security will be hell.” 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands – Forty minutes later**

            “What _happened_?!” Dorothy screeched. 

            “A bunch of fuckin’ rebels just swooped in and set fire to the damn place!”  He was just as hysterical as she was.  “Next thing I know, there’s a gunfight, Carmen’s dead, and the cell with the fuckin’ prisoner I wasn’t allowed to even _look_ at is _empty_!  I thought this was under wraps and nobody knew about it yet!” 

            It really was irritating, they had been so close to _something_ … in more than one way, seeing as the guy also said this had all ended ten minutes ago.  But she wanted to jump for joy over the fact that they were free – even if she had no idea who, because the only person who had had any access to the prisoner was dead.  Whoever it was had been brought in drugged into unconsciousness and tied up in a _sack_ … did they do that with all Class A prisoners, or just gundam pilots? 

            “Fuck!”  Dorothy was… really pissed off.  “Get back in the car, we’re going to Paris.” 

            Relena blinked.  “Paris?” 

            “Where they caught the asshole, so we can find out who it _was_.  Shit, I can’t believe they just fuckin’ _lost_ -” 

            She kept going from there… and Relena really didn’t remember Dorothy having this sort of mouth, but wasn’t inclined to listen to it… so she turned up the stereo. 

            “Oh _thank_ -you!” 

            “You shouldn’t talk like that in front of a lady,” Relena returned glibly, trying to bite back a smirk. 

            Dorothy gave her a look of sheer dismay… and cracked up. 

-

***

-

            “What are you doing?” 

            “Going back to work,” Chaos returned tiredly.  “I was on lunch then called back that Sin was going into labor so I could get the time.” 

            “It’s too early for her to be doing that.” 

            “False alarm, happens sometimes.” 

            “And exactly where was _I_ in this scenario?” 

            “Having a total meltdown, absolutely hopeless, couldn’t even put a sentence together right.” 

            Sin giggled.  “You’d better _not_ do that.” 

            Luc smiled and leaned over to kiss her.  “Kay or Shov will knock some sense into me if I do, I’m sure.”  He turned back to his friend.  “We’ll be up by the time you get home, so you can crash in our room if those drugs haven’t worn off your friend yet.  You’re really going to need some real sleep after all this; the reunion can wait.” 

            “Yeah, no kidding…  Just… start explaining right off the bat.  Waking up in a weird place after being captured isn’t fun.  Later.” 

            “Later.” 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**


	8. Hopes & Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past haunts everyone, but good things bloom out of the wreckage too. Sometimes, they're just unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is where we first start seeing the points that led to the divergence that caused this alternate timeline, where Libra fell. Keep in mind, however, that not everyone is a reliable narrator.

**_-_**

**_Hopes & Dreams _ **

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**April 23 rd 197 – Sunday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            I groaned, rolling over; my stomach was sour, my head was pounding… and shit, I was pissed.  I’d been picked off like a fuckin’ novice.  Two years of war, the last one all guerilla fighting, homemade explosives to do Duo proud and hand-to-hand, learning to drive anything and run like the wind itself if I had to…  and some fuckin’ Regime thug had managed to sneak up on me and get a good blow to my head. 

            _She’s gonna be **pissed** ; I’ll never hear the end of it.  Provided I get **out** anyhow…  _

            …Actually, why was I on a bed? 

            I shifted my weight, pushing at it experimentally, and grimaced.  It was a piece of shit, just a pad like you put under a sleeping bag when you went camping… but the thick nest of blankets I was half wrapped in was wonderfully soft and warm.  _Definitely not the Regime’s doing._   I sat up the rest of the way and looked around.  It was a tiny room, only six by six feet, maybe, and if I stood I could touch the ceiling, I was sure…  But still, it was almost homey, with a dim, battery powered light on near my head.  I could see a little handheld radio with an extended antennae made out of tin foil on it that looked like it had been set up with care, and a duffel with clothes spilling out of it.  Polaroid pictures of a bunch of different kids were stuck up on the wall with duct tape, along with some of people more my age… 

            …and there was a rather large pile of guns and knives, in one corner along with belts and holsters that went with them. 

            The door creaked open and I jumped, clutching at my blankets instinctively, but the girl, maybe my age, made a soothing motion with her hands and started saying something… that I totally couldn’t follow. 

            “What?” 

            She tilted her head at me and smiled.  Dimly, I realized she was, like, movie star pretty… and pretty damn pregnant.  “English?” she asked. 

            Her accent was really heavy, but I breathed a sigh of relief at that.  “God yes, English.  Where am I?” 

            “This is Devil’s quarter.”  When I stared at her blankly, she added, “Sorry, in Amsterdam.  Chaos, he insisted we break you out right after they brought you, you been drugged.  That was early this morning.  Is almost noon, now.” 

            That explained so much, yet so very little.  “Oh.” 

            A man moved into the room behind her.  “Hello,” he greeted with the same thick accent.  “No worry, any friend of Chaos is a friend of mine.  You’re safe here.” 

            “Thanks…”  _Who the fuck are they talking about?_   It was probably some side agent that known better than to leave me in enemy hands and had taken advantage of the situation as soon as he heard.  In which case, I’d better act like I knew him… so where was he? 

            “Oh, ah…”  The woman laughed a little, looking to the man; who was likely the father, with the way he stood by her.  She started rattling off to him in that other language, and he barked a laugh before looking back to me. 

            “Chaos is a new name, but I forgot to ask what name to give you.”  He shook his head.  “He sleeps now, though, and will for a while.  He works nights.  You’ll see him tonight.” 

            “Do you want to wash?” the girl asked curiously.  “I hope you are not shy, we share water, but I and the other girls and wait for you.” 

            I smiled at that and stood.  I’d love to get clean, and I’d been through basic training in OZ; I wasn’t scared of showing my behind to another chick.  “That sounds really good.” 

            They both grinned at me, and the man stepped into the room and grabbed the bag with the clothes.  “He’ll want these when he wakes.  He worried he might wake you if he came in here when he got home.  I’m Luc.  Sin will show you the ropes.”  He pecked the girl, ‘Sin,’ on the lips before walking back out. 

            Sin grinned a bit.  “So…”  She held out one hand.  “I am Sin.” 

            I grinned back at her and shook her hand.  “Hilde.  It’s nice to meet you.” 

-

***

-

**Paris, France**

            “You look fit to be tied.” 

            “If _you_ had been trying to get your hands on that bitch for the last year, you wouldn’t be so calm!” the other woman ranted.  “I swear on everything holy, that woman always pulls the rug right out from under you!” 

            Relena frowned.  “She was the one who got out the information on _Libra_ , wasn’t she?”  When Dorothy’s eyes narrowed, Relena smiled a little.  “She told me what she was up to before she tried to escape, back then.  She said she knew one of the boys… though I suppose she was wrong when she said she wasn’t strong enough to fight with them.” 

            “Considering the fact that she disobeyed direct orders then deserted OZ in order to help free Maxwell, long before she joined White Fang, I imagine I know which one she was referring to,” Dorothy growled. 

            Relena smiled a little, considering all the news she’d seen about Hilde over the past year.  “It seems like she has some of Duo’s finesse; you keep underestimating her.” 

            “Forgive me for not expecting a regular in a Virgo to maneuver around a Mercurius and take down a Vayeate with Gundam pilot programming,” the other woman returned acidly, rolling her eyes.  “I want to know how she tricked her life support’s energy stream into the main of the engine; she’d have died anyhow if Maxwell hadn’t dragged her back to _Peacemillion_ as fast as he did.”  Taking a deep breath, she muttered, “I don’t think Winner would have been able to take us down if _she_ had been controlling the dolls” 

            Relena frowned.  Dorothy actually sounded… petulant.  Not that that was so much of a surprise, but…  “You really don’t like to be outdone, do you?” 

            She sighed again.  “Who does, Miss Relena?  Certainly not you.  I hope you do realize that the fact that she got away again means we really _don’t_ have any new information to go off of.” 

            “Yes… but neither does my brother.” 

            The other woman chuckled a little at that.  “Sibling rivalry at its finest.” 

            Relena looked over the horizon to the Eiffel tower.  Such an old monument, from so long ago…  It had been worthless in and of itself, but it had symbolized not only prosperity, but dominance.  “If we have to fight over something, why not civilization itself?” she asked dryly. 

            “…How far?” 

            Relena turned to meet her nervous expression with a frown.  _How far am I willing to go?_   That always _was_ the question with Dorothy…  And in all honesty, she didn’t yet know.  She wasn’t sure if her faith in pacifistic ideals was entirely gone, but she wasn’t sure that she had faith in any kind of fighting either.  Every struggle she involved herself in always seemed to end hopelessly whatever way she tried to solve it. 

            But this wasn’t about total pacifism anymore.  This was about saving the world, not from constant war, but from Milliardo and what he had done.  There was no war now, but society itself was fast turning into a sham.  This was about saving humanity from taking a deeper dive than it could recover from; the absolute definitions of right and wrong could be redefined later. 

            She didn’t think she could take a gun from Dorothy to assassinate her brother any more now than she could have back on _Libra_ … but she was no longer sure if it was because she couldn’t stand to use a weapon, or because she knew it would send the organization into a chaos that she could never reorganize it from. 

            “As far as I must.” 

-

***

-

 

_-_

**_December 24 th 195 – Peacemillion_ **

_I thought they had an idea that could work.  I sorta regretted the fact that I found them, I could easily admit to that, but I couldn’t just leave them to die after I’d saved them, and they said they really wanted to help…_

_“Oh shit, G, come on, man, you’ve gotta be kiddin’ me…”_

_“You did your best, 02,” J snapped.  “It was just too much trauma, the fabric  ripped…  And we knew the risk when we took used suits anyhow.”_

_“Well **his** suit didn’t rip, why the hell isn’t he gettin’ up?!”  _

_“It was a used suit, boy… he didn’t realize how low the air supply was until it was too late.”_

_-_

Duo tossed in his sleep.  The cyborg freak’s words had bitten deep… 

 

-

            _The other two were straight up gone… and with a sick turn of my stomach, I realized I **knew** which spin had done and thrown them off.  _

_I swallowed.  Well, they’d said themselves that they knew the risks of trying to hold on, even under my armor, while I fought a battle like that; they’d just needed to get to **Peacemillion** so bad…  _

_“Boy, I don’t move so fast as I’d like, if we want any hope of getting this done in time, I need you!”_

_Fuck!  He wouldn’t say it if he didn’t mean it, but my gundam’d be attacked any minute, as soon as the dolls’ programming realized I was sitting still, and then they’d come investigate, and…_

_**But if the orbit isn’t changed, then none of it’s worth anything.**_

_“Shit.”  I unbuckled as fast as I could, guiding Deathscythe into the entry one-handed; I’d already blown the door, so it wouldn’t have any kind of extra shielding, not that those doors really ever held up to much anyhow.  As soon as he was stable, or as stable as he was going to get, I bolted out of the hatch.  “Alright old man, which way?”_

_It had all gone so very wrong.  I knew it was taking too long, and I hadn’t had time to even radio out to the others, so I wasn’t sure what they’d think would have happened to me; I didn’t even remember that I should have tried to send a message until after I was chasing J through the dark.  I’d bolted back for the hangar as soon as the doc said he could take it from there, trying to get back out before it was too late-_

            _I was suddenly **into** the damn wall… well, he’d boosted what was left of the engines, which meant that there was still **some** hope left… and then I saw my buddy and realized the worst wasn’t done happening yet.  He was so shot up…  _

_He **had** to still be functional.  At least the dolls were gone, leaving me assumed defeated…  Whoever was controlling them before must be slacking off.  _

_He **had** to still fly, he was my only ticket out of here!  _

_Too many fried circuits, and the power source was on the verge of failing.  My comms systems were beyond hope, and shit, if I wanted to fly I needed to do it the old fashioned way, calibrate the fuel exhaust to the engines manually, and even that I had to do some work on before I could make it kiss up.  If I could get close enough, I could use the Earth’s gravity to pull me in to safety…  At least, if my shielding wasn’t so shot to shit that I burned up in the atmosphere first.  It was the best plan I could come up with, at any rate._

_It wasn’t until I actually got close enough that the planet’s pull was reeling me in strong enough I couldn’t fight it if I wanted to that I saw it.  It was right at the edge of my view horizon, but I could recognize a huge fuckin’ piece of the **Libra** falling into the planet same as me, though it’d be falling way further west… and I knew it was too big.  There were smaller pieces around it, I could see Sandrock and Heavyarms trying to hack it up, but they weren’t doing so hot…  _

_Then Wing Zero’s fuckin’ suicide dive after it.  I didn’t know if even that monster could take the atmosphere so straight on like that, and then they were too far away to see.  Everything was getting hot… too hot, I was going to burn right up…_  

-

 

**April 23 rd 197 – Amsterdam, Netherlands – Devil’s Den**

            Duo jerked out of his blankets, panting hard, rolled over onto the floor and woke up with a start at the cold tile on his back- and breathed a sigh of relief.  _Just a dream._   He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, holding it up off his neck.  _Just a memory…_   He rolled back onto Luc and Sin’s bed and shoved his face in the covers, breathing deep; just Luc’s smell, Karina’s cheap perfume, dirt and sweat… reality.  No smoldering metal, no blood, no tears, no high CO2 levels…

            He was asleep again in moments. 

-

***

-

            “What’s the update?” 

            Shov shrugged.  “Cops’re every bit as lazy as usual.  The Regime’s on it, but like Chaos said, they think it’s the rebels.  Slingers are slinking ‘round, looking for any info, but the Regime’s not talking and the faction people I can find are acting all high and mighty, even though they don’t actually know jack.”  He took out a cigarette and considered it.  “Made sure not to draw too much attention, but word is he was pretty important.” 

            “You really were asleep last night, huh?” Luc asked, grinning.  “And go outside if you’re going to smoke that.” 

            “Should’ve woken me up,” Shov returned grumpily, tapping the thing against his leg.  “I’d have loved to see that boy in action, from what all Val’s been saying.” 

            Luc grinned.  “Yeah, the real kicker is he homemade all the shit he used… a couple weeks ago too, ‘incase something really bad happened.’  With Chaos in hand, I swear, we could take the whole damn city if we wanted.”  He waved a hand at his second’s look.  “I don’t, I wouldn’t risk what we got for a dumb prize we couldn’t even swallow…  I’m just glad Cal pissed him off right when he got in town, else we might be in trouble.” 

            Shov could agree with that… though it could be argued that they actually _needed_ more power now that they had the ex-solider.  Their numbers had risen with him at their core to encourage loyalty with both the lure of protection as well as belonging.  That was keeping them alive in some ways, but it made the Slingers _really_ start viewing them as a rival… and he wasn’t too sure what would keep Cal from coming knocking down their door anymore, besides Chaos.  They needed him now, and he didn’t like that dependence… though at the same time, Chaos made it clear that he needed them too. 

            And that was what all this was really about, wasn’t it?  Out of what law enforcement there’d been before the last war only a measly number was left, and out of those only a handful weren’t crooked, and it was a big city; you couldn’t trust anybody for anything these days.  Groups had started to form up to make up for the gaps, and he himself had followed Luc because he’d known him growing up… and because he had a good idea.  He only wanted what they all needed.  That and Cal’s guys weren’t locals; they were drifters that had put down roots in their old neighborhood that didn’t give a damn about the city and what would happen to everything in the long run.  Luc just wanted them to all survive the Peacecraft Regime without any more bad choices than they had to make. 

            He hadn’t known what to make of Chaos at first.  He’d seemed like he’d do better in the Slingers, much as he hated to admit it… but the kid really just wanted to blend in.  Probably only because he was as young as he was, he really just wanted to forget his past… and put everything he had to Luc and the church.  He was talented beyond all means, but he seem to give a damn.  So if he really knew how to make all the explosives and chemical cocktail he’d apparently thrown into the guard room down at the compound? 

            Well, all it really meant was that Luc had that power at his disposal. 

            “He just doesn’t want the competition,” Shov concluded, grinning and tucking the cigarette back in its packet.  “We just think he’s awesome and leave him be; Cal’d expect regular performances.  And hell, where’d the boy be if he didn’t have us to give him noogies like the good big brothers we are?” 

            Luc laughed.  “Or my girlfriend to put make-up on him?  …Shit, I think he was still wearing it when he went to bed this morning.” 

            “He probably forgot she did it,” Shov agreed.  “He sure did a turnabout, though… he can’t seem to tell her no for anything, these days.” 

            His leader waved a hand at him.  “Kay doesn’t tell anybody no for laughs or favors.  He made her respect his personal space, so now that she’s gotten over herself, she’s allowed to invade it right alongside everybody else.” 

            “Melissa helped hold him down so she could do it,” Shov noted, still grinning, turning to actually watch the guys tussling; Luc hadn’t done more than glance at him since he came in, his attention focused there instead.  He blinked.  “Who the hell’s that?” 

            Luc’s grin widened.  “That would be the bit of rebel sweetness Chaos insisted we rescue last night.” 

            He hadn’t expected a woman, though he supposed one of the girls would call him a chauvinist if he admitted that it.  She was short, only about 5’4 at most, with dark, wavy hair held back in a ponytail that reached the small of her back.  She was wearing a pair of low-cut jeans and a sports bra that held down what looked like a practically nonexistent bust, leaving a really well-toned torso open for viewing.  Robby was grappling with her… and seriously getting his ass kicked. 

            “Wow.” 

            “Hot, huh?”  Luc started laughing as his girlfriend punched his side; she’d been standing not too far away since he’d come in. 

            Shov grinned as Robby called mercy and she stood, meeting his eyes; her face was sweet, and her slate blue eyes were sharp and intelligent.  “Very.” 

            Sin laughed too, leaning against her lover’s side.  “She’s pretty cool, yeah.” 

            She was walking towards them now… and she had that same fluid grace as Chaos, that dangerous glint to her eye that he had when he was amused.  “Hi!” she greeted cheerfully in English. 

            She had the same obnoxiously American accent as Chaos too. 

            “That looked fun,” Sin decided, smiling brightly.  “You have to show me that last move.  Are you hungry?” 

            “Absolutely starved,” she admitted. 

            “Good, I think somebody’s already making food…”  The two women giggled, and Sin gestured at him.  “Doushovel, this is Hilde.  Hilde, this is Shov.” 

            He felt like his jaw was going to drop to the floor.  “Hilde _Schbeiker_?!”  He’d heard the name tossed around that morning but hadn’t thought too much of it.  He saw Luc’s eyes widen as he also looked at the girl and recognition sunk in.  “You’re the girl who took out that gundam doll all by yourself?” 

            Her laugh was adorable.  “That was a whole lot of dodging and dumb luck, really; I’m just lucky the gundam pilots showed up and finished the job before the normal doll army showed up.”  She scratched at her head.  “Most of what they’ve reported being my fault since the war ended really was me, though.” 

            He’d heard about the rebels’ leading women… but he’d never have thought he’d meet one; or that she’d be so smoking _hot_. 

            “Um… Can I get a shirt?” 

            Sin laughed.  “Shov will give you his right off his back.” 

            Hilde blushed, offering him a shy smile… and let Sin led her back out of the main area. 

            “…I just made a total fool of myself, didn’t I?” 

            “Oh, I don’t know, those are Sin’s old jeans she’s wearing; she’s got the body of a damn war goddess.”  His leader was shaking his head after the women, highly amused.  “She doesn’t know the name Chaos, so I don’t know how he knows her.  Shit, with a girl like that, he might have decided to get her out even if he just knew her in passing; the boy’s an altruist at heart.” 

            Shov shook his head.  “They have the same accent, they move the same…” 

            Luc bit one lip.  “I don’t know, maybe they knew each other before the war; or maybe they trained together or something.  She just went through all our fighters the same way Chaos does…”  He shook his head.  “It’ll all get cleared up once my damn devil wakes up and can talk to her himself; I’m just trying to keep it simple ‘til then.” 

            “Well, I think I can see why he didn’t fall under Sin’s spell, if he was around _her_.” 

            Luc rolled his eyes.  “Sin’s hotter than her.” 

            “Yeah, sure, whatever.” 

            “Seriously, that girl doesn’t hardly have any curves.” 

            “And she doesn’t need them.”  The look his old friend was giving him was skeptical, and he couldn’t help but laugh.  “You have a kid on the way, man…  Be glad you’re not thinking about it.  That’s a woman I’d kill for.” 

            “If she’s really Hilde Schbeiker,” Luc noted, “then she _does_ have men killing for her, a lot of them, literally _dying_ to bring down the Peacecraft Regime.” 

            Shov scowled.  “You’re a killjoy.” 

            “Just trying to keep you grounded.  Don’t crowd her too much until we have some idea of how long she’s staying.” 

            He sighed.  “Yeah, yeah…” 

-

***

-

**Unknown – Treize’s hidden compound**

            “So she got away…” 

            “Sir?” 

            “No, it’s probably a good thing.  It wasn’t Carmen’s fault his actions were actually picked up on for once; it’s just how the cards played out.  I’m just sad to have lost another good solider.  Leave the Regime to tell his family; he died in their service, not mine.  Dismissed.” 

            “Sir.” 

            Treize sighed, resting his face in one hand.  Another good man, dead.  Unless faced with resistance, Zechs would never learn, but still. 

            _Thomas Carmen._   He etched the name into his memory. 

            It was a habit that he had come to long ago as a teenaged officer who constantly found himself on battlefields not of his own choosing, remembering names.  A few people had teased him for it, and many had tried to dissuade him, but others had honored him for it… and it had saved his life, once.  _Chang Meilan._  

            He had brushed up on the name after the colony had been destroyed in November of 195; the first time he had hidden the reports of a mobile suit matching the Shenlong’s description, he hadn’t had the means to learn the names of the girl who died defending it a year before Operation Meteor was ordered.  A young girl with the same name as Shenlong’s pilot.  He had made an educated guess when he offered that name, in an attempt for repentance before he let himself go… and then the boy had simply fled.  _He really **was** just a boy after all, then._  

            His suit had been damaged in the fight, and as he continued to fight afterwards… things had proceeded as could only be expected, he supposed.  _Lady Une…_  

            Zechs was unaware of his survival, though he might doubt, since he had never found a body.  It had, nevertheless, allowed him ample opportunity to slip agents in among the other man’s troops.  He was working on getting a few people working with Po too, but it was proving near impossible to locate them.  He had been hoping for a lead with Schbeiker, but the unfortunate side effect about effective double agent management was that if you had gotten a mole in high enough that he was truly vital, it was better to give up the chance you had grabbed for later hope with him in a still higher place.  So Schbeiker’s escape was really a good thing, as it kept her out of the Zechs’ hands. 

            But he really wanted to kill whoever had felt the need to put a bullet through Carmen’s skull.  _So close and yet still so far._  

            On the other hand, Relena’s reappearance was something to consider.  He had little doubt that they had similar ideas in mind this time around, even if they had different ways of going about it.  The girl had shown such promise before… 

            And with any luck, Zechs wouldn’t realize exactly what _kind_ of promise that meant for him until too late. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands – Devil’s Den**

            Hilde couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed.  Incredibly welcome – and somewhat embarrassed, with the way people were looking at her – but very foreign, and very out of sorts. 

            Sin wasn’t due to have her baby for another few months; they’d all laughed when she asked… and proceeded directly into lewd jokes that Sin had smacked at them for, despite her broad grin.  They were a comfortable group, and attentive, offering anything she wanted – outside of a tv, which was apparently some kind of joke.  Luc even mentioned that they were making sure nothing led the Regime here, though she imagined that was far more in their own interest than hers; harboring a fugitive generally didn’t make anybody look good.  They tried to use English in front of her, but it was obvious that they spoke Dutch more easily… and just as obvious that ‘Chaos’ must as well, which lowered her hopes of him being anyone she actually knew.  This was definitely a nice reprieve from a cell, though, and could even be counted as a sort of vacation, she supposed. 

            So when she heard them call out the name and looked to where Sin was pointing, she smiled, ready to greet whoever it was with whatever affiliation with her he claimed, her heart stopped.  _It couldn’t be…_  

            He was taller, if still short for his age, and his style of clothes were different… his face had matured, but she knew hers had too.  She stood, though her knees felt like they wouldn’t support her.  _No.  It just looks like him, it couldn’t be-_  

            He met her eyes… and those really _hadn’t_ changed. 

            “Duo!” 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**


	9. Crossing Boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone lives by degrees of separation, and they're not as easy to mix as most people would like. Eventually, you have to make a choice about what matters more - the old, or the new?

_**-** _

**_Crossing Boundaries _ **

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**April 23 rd 197 – Sunday – Amsterdam, Netherlands – Devil’s Den**

            “Duo!” 

            I couldn’t help but smile, starting to move forward to hug her, but the next moment she was vaulting the couch and literally flying into my arms.  Laughing, I caught her and spun us to kill the momentum… and her hands were all over my face.  I closed my eyes, enjoying the familiar touch, breathing in the smell of her…  I hadn’t realized just how badly I’d missed her until now.  “Heya, Hilde,” I greeted softly, opening my eyes back up.  Her waist was smaller than I remembered… 

            Had she always been so small?  She couldn’t be any bigger than Karina. 

            “I thought you died,” she whispered. 

            I shrugged.  “I didn’t.” 

            She laughed a little hysterically… then looked about to cry as she fingered my ponytail.  “Your hair!” 

            “Heh… it doesn’t look _that_ bad, does it?” 

            She shook her head and I set her back down on her feet, not sure exactly what to do.  Before I could think of a way to break the ice, though, she was resting all her weight back on me, running a hand up my chest until she reached my hair and favored it with a tight grip, touching my face again with her other hand.  Again, I accepted the touch, closing my eyes… and she gently tugged my ponytail to bend me over enough so she could kiss me. 

            I hadn’t gotten that much taller, had I? 

            Smiling into her mouth, I picked her up a little bit – apparently I _had_ – and deepened the kiss, holding her as tight as I could.  She was _there_ , and I found I really didn’t care about a whole lot else.  I felt more than heard her giggle as she kicked at the back of my knee and threw her weight against me so I stumbled backwards into the bar and she could brace one knee against it and hold onto me by the back my neck, running her other hand down my back hard enough that I _had_ to kiss her again, and- 

            “Okay, bet’s off, he’s not gay.” 

            I choked hard as I suddenly remembered we were in the _middle of the Den_. 

            Holy _shit_ , I’d just started to make out with Hilde in front of _everyone_.  I felt my face start to flush, and noticed hers was pretty damn red too. 

            “Get a room!” somebody laughed. 

            “Who thought I was _gay_?” I demanded, absolutely flabbergasted.  The following silence was just _that_ comforting.  “Oh, come on!” 

            “Speak English,” Hilde muttered petulantly, looking back and forth between me and the rest of the room.  She’d slid down me to rest back on her own feet and was straightening her shirt. 

            I’d managed to muss her shirt?  No, it was just one of those little ones that hitched easy…  “You’re wearing Sin’s clothes, aren’t you?” I demanded suddenly.  No wonder, she’d always been showing less skin than _me_ , back during the war. 

            Karina was just about falling over herself giggling, and she wasn’t the only one.  I started to laugh myself.  “God help me, I’ll pay you for that outfit, she needs to keep it.” 

            Whoever hadn’t already been laughing started to, and Luc grinned.  “Don’t bother, that one doesn’t stay on very long.” 

            I was _so_ glad he’d said that in Dutch. 

            Hilde’s smile was looking a little doubtful.  “Do I want to know?” 

            “Don’t be crude!” I whined at my leader. 

            “Oh come on, boy, if we’d all quietly walked out I don’t think you’d still be able to claim you were-” 

            “Hey!” 

            Hilde seemed to have decided to just ignore the language that was flying over her head anyhow, and had started fiddling with my ponytail.  “It’s too short,” she muttered irritably, tugging at it as if that would magically reveal its old length.  Sniggers sounded throughout the room again. 

            “Better than getting caught,” I returned, rolling my eyes. 

            She smiled at that, looking back up at me… then frowned. 

            “What?” I demanded warily. 

            “…Is that…?” she reached up and wiped at my eye… and her finger came away black. 

            …I was _never_ going to live today down. 

-

***

-

**April 30 th 197 – Sunday – Jerusalem, Israel**

            Heero waved a hand when Moira moved to help him out of the car, offering her a smile and doing it himself.  It was getting easier and easier; both the smile and moving about on his own. 

            “Don’t you strain yourself,” the Jewish woman warned him, her dark eyes sparking with the danger he would face if he didn’t heed her warning. 

            “I won’t,” he reassured her, accepting the cane when she offered it.  It was nearly dusk, and they were at the clinic for a more formal check-up at the end of Dr. Srona’s day.  Slowly, they made their way to the door. 

            He had no memory of when Quatre had brought him here.  The only reason the blonde had dared to do something so rash, he suspected, was because he had already been delirious with a high fever and unable to talk, let alone fight him off.  _Heh._   This last year had taught him more about pride than he’d ever wanted to know; particularly how stupid it could be.  He would be dead now, if he’d had his way. 

            “Finish the antibiotics, clean it every day, and you should be fine,” he could hear Samuel muttering.  “And for God’s sake, don’t push it, or the muscle will never knit back up right.” 

            “Thank-you, doctor,” muttered a voice that froze Heero in his tracks.  That slight lilt of an accent…  “I’m sorry to trouble you.  I wouldn’t have, but I’m a long way from a safe house, and the infection set in.” 

            “What’s wrong?”  Moira asked curiously. 

            “I need to go,” the man muttered quickly at her voice, hissing slightly as cloth rustled – maybe pulling on a jacket.  “Thank-you again; I won’t forget your help.  I’ll come back and pay you once I’m not on the run.”  Heero started up the stairs again, as quickly as he could manage. 

            “Don’t bother.  Just take care of that arm… and give them one for me.” 

            “I will.” 

            Breathing hard, Heero burst into the office in time to see a teenager wearing a dull green coat ducking out the back entrance.  He had a short black ponytail, and the hand slamming the door shut after him was a bronze that suggested Chinese descent. 

            And he was gone. 

            He tried to call after him, but found himself completely out of breath and instead he fell to his knees, gasping, with the Sronas huddling around him, demanding to know what was wrong and checking his vitals. 

            If he’d had enough air, he would have _screamed_.  He’d missed Wufei by a mere two seconds. 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium**

            “I hear you’ve been spending a lot of time with Dorothy.” 

            Relena smiled.  “She’s changed so much since we last talked; I think we’ve both grown up enough to be friends, now.” 

            Milliardo smiled back.  “And I imagine it must also be a relief to have someone close to your own age around.” 

            His little sister laughed.  “You have _no_ idea.  We were actually talking about going shopping the next time she was off duty.”  _Malls are too crowded to easily tap a conversation._  

            “She’s rather busy, isn’t she?” 

            “Yes, but it works out so that I can tag along and learn what needs the most attention firsthand.”  She snickered a little.  “And still have girl talk, point out what delegates we think are cute, all that.” 

            He shook his head a little.  “So long as you’re not still ooing over Yuy.” 

            “Oh, Milliardo,” she rolled her eyes.  “I only said he was my boyfriend _once_ and that was because I was trying to get more information about him out of Dr. Po at the hospital.”  She shrugged a little and forced another grin.  “Besides, he _was_ cute.”  Sighing, she added, “Confused enough to make me look steady back then… but cute.” 

            “I always thought girls would fall over Maxwell more,” her brother noted, tilting his head. 

            She wrinkled her nose.  “Who wants to go out with a boy who’ll take longer to do his hair than you will?  Besides, he never seemed to take anything seriously; not that I ever exchanged more than a few words with him.”  She considered.  “Actually, I don’t think I ever _actually_ talked with any of them except Heero and Quatre.  But even in Sanc, they preferred Noin to my own company.” 

            He grimaced.  “Noin always had a way of making those around her feel comfortable.  She attracts company, good and bad, but everyone always behaves for her.  I miss her.” 

            “Yes.  Me too.”  _You never deserved Noin, Milliardo; she had too good of a heart.  I’m glad she finally realized that; I doubt I’d have the strength to stand up against what you say, if she was here at your side._  

            The reports were unclear as to Noin’s whereabouts; nearly every rebel group claimed to have her, and Relena suspected there was a decent chance she might have taken the opportunity to fade into obscurity.  Relena wasn’t sure which she wished was true.  It would be wonderful if Noin would stand with her against her brother when push finally came to shove, but she wouldn’t wish the other woman any more hurt than she had already borne.  Her heart had been so split when it came to that last battle; the way she had come with and supported the gundams, then stood by Milliardo before just _disappearing_ during his last fight with Heero and the others… 

            Relena just hoped she was safe, wherever she was. 

            “She accompanied you quite a bit during the last war, didn’t she?” 

            “She did,” Relena agreed.  “She was always advising me on how to best keep a hold on my temper.”  She smiled a little.  “These days it seems like I’m always cooling off Dorothy’s temper.  Perhaps I inherited something of her disposition?” 

            Milliardo laughed.  “Maybe.”  Shaking his head somewhat, he handed her a file with a decent-sized stack of papers in it.  “Read through that and tell me what you think?” 

            “Of course,” she returned eagerly, taking it from him to open at her desk.  She knew it wouldn’t be anything important; he didn’t trust her _that_ well yet.  He only gave her things he had already gone through and come to a decision on, and was waiting to see if all her opinions came in line with his own.  They would discuss the issue at length once she had told him what she thought… and she only told him what he might want to hear.  Maybe sometime soon he would give her something she could actually use.  But for now… 

            Well, for now it was something to do. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “You need to settle your mind about this sometime soon, Rina,” Chaos muttered under his breath as they trudged through the snow.  “We don’t have long before it goes and gets real complicated, and I need to be ready.” 

            Sin bit her lip.  “I know…” 

            “I’d really prefer it if you’d do something to make Cal break up with you,” he continued.  “He beat you before he found out you were pregnant, didn’t he?” 

            “We _fought_ ,” she snapped, shifting her coat.  “What the hell makes you think I’m stupid enough to stay with a man who’d hit me?” 

            “Well,” he returned hotly, “you were obviously-” 

            “I did what I did because I was _scared_ ,” she snarled.  “I thought I was getting insurance so that whichever group fell, I’d be okay!  Then the guy above Cal, who wouldn’t have given a damn who some girl was with, he died, and Cal took over and renamed the group.”  She sniffed hard.  “And I’ve been in this _limbo_ ever since.” 

            “You should’ve broken with Cal when he took power,” Chaos argued.  “You should have realized what-” 

            “I was _fourteen_ , Chaos, fuck you!” she cried.  “I didn’t have a _clue_ what I was getting into, I was just trying to keep my head above water!  My folks died when I was little, the orphanage sucked, and then my foster father got drunk all the time.  _He’d_ beat me practically whenever he saw me, and his wife didn’t give a _damn_ unless I was hollering loud enough to interrupt her soaps!  And then she’d just tell him to hit me harder!  I was out of the house as much as I could, and it didn’t take long to realize what was a girl’s only way to have a speck of protection from _anything_ in this town!  At least if I made it home when somebody tried to hurt me, Carl would hurt them back, but then he’d smack me around a bit to try to make the lesson stick that I shouldn’t mix up with that kind!  Like there was any other kind _to_ mix up with!  And-” 

            “Hey, calm down,” he muttered, pulling her into a hug.  “I’m sorry, alright?  Just high strung…  Shit, if you don’t play this out right I’m fucked over right along with you, you know?” 

            She paused, getting her breath back, and tried to think it over for a minute.  “…Cal would take you on.” 

            “Sweetie, we’ve _been over_ the fact that I don’t like Cal.  I don’t think I can trust him, and they get too much publicity.  And _hell_ if he’d make a good dad.” 

            “Luc’s a patronizing shit,” she snapped irritably. 

            “That’s because Luc actually gives a damn,” he returned just as irritably.  “And he’s not so dumb as to believe you’re actually legal; he just treats you with the respect you want and tries to keep you out of trouble anyway.  The guy actually loves you, and Cal just…”  He shook his head.  “You know what, this is your choice, never mind.” 

            “No, what were you gonna say?” she demanded, getting up in his face, or as up in his face as she could, without heels.  “Come on, tell me.” 

            He scowled.  “Calvin Slinger just _appeases_ you to keep you quiet and happy like a good little whore for hire.”  She opened her mouth to snap back at him, but he overrode her.  “Do you honestly think he’s going to care about this kid once it’s born?  Sure, he’ll make sure you’ve both got clothes and never go hungry, but do you think the asshole will bother trying to be a parent?” 

            She scowled.  “Well, maybe it’d be better that way; the baby’d never grow up wanting.” 

            He scowled right back at her.  “With his daddy tearing up what’s left of this city left and right?  Who’s gonna make him think that men aren’t supposed to care about anything but themselves?  That’s a hell of a role model.” 

            “…There’d be you.” 

            He snorted.  “I ain’t ever going over to Cal, Rina.  You pick him, and I’ll say how do you do to you on the street, but that’s it.  I’ll have to watch my own back for the sake of Luc and the rest, then.” 

            That… that really _hurt_.  She didn’t want to… but she started to cry, after he said that.  She didn’t want to think of what life had been like without that unconditional friend, who’d take her despite all her mistakes. 

            “Rina…”  He sounded sorry, but… 

            “Why don’t you just run off with your girlfriend too, then!” she cried.  “That way you wouldn’t _ever_ have to see me again!” 

            “Rina, come on, I was just-” 

            “She’s a real looker, isn’t she?  No wonder you didn’t like me when you got here!  You two had better get on the road, Shov’s sweet on her and you wouldn’t want to accidentally break up the whole group with your romance!” 

            “Sin, really, don’t-” 

            “Whatcha still doing here with all us fuck-ups?” she demanded nastily.  “You should just-” 

            “Karina!” 

            She fell silent at that; he never used her real name like that.  The last time she’d heard her name said in that tone she’d still been living with Carl Demach and his wife. 

            “Look, I’m sorry, okay?  I’m just worried… I don’t want this to all go to hell in a hand basket, because I don’t know if I’ll be able to pull it back into anything like normal if it goes too far.  I don’t think Cal’s good for anything…”  He pulled his coat tighter around himself and shuddered.  “The guy gives me the creeps.”  He sighed.  “And I’m not leaving with Hilde.  I’ve got too much going on here, and…  Well, believe it or not, I actually like it here.” 

            She sniffed again, wiping at her eyes.  “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” 

            “No,” he returned easily, leading her over to sit down on a bench.  They were in the park they’d found him in, she realized dimly.  “I like it here.  I’ve got the church, and with the kids, hell, maybe a chance at redemption.  I’ve got a full crew of guys and even a few girls that I can always trust to watch my back… I can’t say I miss getting two hours of light sleep waiting for my proximity alarm to go off because I was out long enough to get tracked.  That’s the kind of life Hilde’d want me to go back to, and I’m not ready to handle that kind of shit again, not now, maybe not ever.  Nobody here expects me to be anything but me… and I’ve got friends, real friends, for the first time since I was a little kid.” 

            He tucked a lock of hair back behind her ear.  “And I did some real stupid shit when I was thirteen or fourteen too.  Actually, that was what got me mixed up in the war in the first place.  So I guess I really don’t have any room to bad talk you, huh?” 

            She sniffed again, thinking over everything he’d said.  He wasn’t actually mad at her, and he’d know she wasn’t upset with him, but…  “You think I should stay with Luc?” 

            “Yes, I really do.  I think it’d be better for both you and the baby.” 

            She considered his sincere indigo eyes for a moment… and nodded.  “How do we do it, then?” 

            He sighed.  “I don’t know yet…  But we can start by skipping your visit with Cal today.  Come on, I promised the kids I’d take them out for a treat of some sort.” 

            “Sounds good,” she noted, lifting a hand for him to help her up. 

            “Of course it does, you’re a regular cow,” he teased. 

            “I weigh just about as much as one,” she admitted with chagrin.  “I’m going to have to go on a diet after the kid’s born.” 

            “Yeah, sure, whatever,” he dismissed, tugging her after him in the direction of the church.  “The Father will be happy to see you; he and the Sister have both been talking about how they see so little of you lately.”  He grinned.  “And with how much of you there is right now, that’s saying something.” 

            She smacked at him playfully and he just laughed… and not for the first time, Sin realized how incredibly lucky she was to have gotten herself such a friend. 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**


	10. Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Growing up means making changes by your own choices instead of only where circumstance forces your hand, then dealing with the consequences.

**_-_**

**_Try _ **

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**-**

**April 31 st 197 – Monday – Brussels, Belgium**

            Dorothy tilted her head and debated whether or not her coffee was cool enough to sip as she leaned in the doorway of the office Relena had assigned herself, watching the other girl slam on her keyboard.  She was too far away to read the words, but Relena’s temper was generally more mild than this… which meant it was likely something major.  She was trying to decide if she really wanted to meet the kraken or find a more pleasant way to spend her time; possibly by sifting through the reports of vaguely feasible rumors that she had been avoiding for the past week.  It would take at least two hours to get through the main of it, and by the time she got through the first ten or twenty, her morning addiction might be cool enough to actually taste. 

            “What?” Relena growled, spinning her chair around to glare at her. 

            “What, what?” Dorothy returned.  Innocence was usually worth a shot. 

            “You’ve been standing there for ten minutes, _what_?” 

            _There’s always tomorrow._   Most of those reports were absolute nonsense anyhow, and by now, someone else would have noticed if there was a situation in them that was imperative; she wasn’t the only one assigned to these things. 

            She had made sure, after all, that they stopped doing _that_ months ago.  Personally, she felt it had been a rather constructive three days spent researching poetry; her narrative had improved significantly, and people bothered her far _less_ now with inane bullshit. 

            Objective lessons usually worked best, after all.  She liked to think they now understood she had a low tolerance for busywork, but if they gave her less to do because they found her unreliable, she could hardly deny the positive results. 

            She considered Relena for a long moment before asking, “Is everything quite alright?” 

            “Everyone here is too damn _stupid_ to pull off ruling the damn world,” she growled.  “And…”  She dropped her head on her desk.  “And that actually makes this harder than easier,” she mumbled through the shield of her hair. 

            Dorothy nodded a little, stepping fully into the room… and blinked at the pile of papers she hadn’t noticed on the floor.  Deciding that the angry red marks all over the top sheet indicated this might be the source of her friend’s ire, she knelt down to read it… and blinked again.  “You know…” she started, trying to choose her words.  Finally, she just settled for, “You were asking for it, picking _that_ up.” 

            “Oh, go to hell…” 

            “There’s a _reason_ that’s been sitting on my desk for five days,” she noted, picking up the top inch of papers to see that the ones below were just as heavily marked.  She set them back down, and picked up the top two inches; same result.  She decided the nearly five inch stack could be dismissed as thoroughly gone through… and noticed the two other similarly stacked piles along the wall.  As their top sheets were again thoroughly covered, she didn’t bother flipping through the reports.  She had to have collected all the detritus split between _everyone_ for the past _month_.  It was absurd.  “How early did you come in this morning?” 

            “I _didn’t_ ,” the other girl growled, still not lifting her head. 

            Well… there wasn’t a whole lot to say to that.  She stood back up.  The urge to point and laugh just didn’t seem appropriate.  “Did you find anything useful?” 

            “ _No_.” 

            _Why **did** I ask?_   It wasn’t like the answer wasn’t fairly obvious.  “Anything entertaining?” 

            That finally got her to look up, though still through her hair, and Dorothy offered her the cup of coffee before remembering that it was too hot and retracted the offer to cradle it in her hands a while longer.  That got her a stranger look than before, but she decided it was high time to look busily out the window until the other girl started talking.  That generally worked, with Relena. 

            After a moment, she sighed.  “Just stupid shit.  Like snatching teenagers off the street because someone gets the idea it might be one of the boys, and then we have furious parents coming in to reclaim them.  I thought the idea was to make the population _like_ us.  They snatched up some poor kid they said was Trowa a few weeks back because he was outside his house late one night, and his mother went into a fit of hysteria and filed a missing person’s report before the whole mess got straightened out, and is threatening to sue for how her boy was treated.  She says he has psychological problems now because of it.”  She shook her head.  “And I swear to God, the next time someone sees an Asian teenager without his parents and decides it’s Wufei, I’m ordering them drawn and quartered.” 

            Dorothy smiled a little, rolling her eyes.  “Yes… it’s something of a problem, but your brother still wants them caught, so we can’t take down the alerts posted everywhere.  Unfortunately, the public seems to have realized that it’s been more than fifteen months since any pictures were taken of them, and fifteen-year-old boys have this habit of growing.  Not to mention the fact that they’ll be trying to _not_ look like their pictures, which means any male between the ages of thirteen and twenty-five is suspect.” 

            “It’s stupid.” 

            She shrugged.  “It’s less of an issue than it was just three months ago.  It will keep going down from here; everyone’s slowly settling into something akin to apathy, regarding the boys.  I mean, it’s obviously not like they’re causing trouble right now.  Well,” she rolled her eyes again.  “they’re not doing anything that draws attention to themselves, at any rate.  The best we have to go off of is the last time Jake got a lock on Heero’s IP, and that was more than six months ago.”  

            Relena frowned.  “You didn’t mention that.” 

            “It was over six months ago, Lena, and he bolted before we got within an _hour_ of his location.  _You_ try finding a guy who looks like he could be your average Macedonian Greek in the middle of downtown Athens.” 

            “You still could’ve told me,” she muttered irritably. 

            “It hardly seemed relevant.  Now come on, you need to eat.” 

            “Go on without me, I need to finish this e-mail.” 

            “Stand up right now or I’ll go tell your brother you’ve been up for over thirty hours.” 

            “It’s only been twenty-six,” she returned moodily. 

            “Yes, but thirty has more push behind it for the overprotective brother.  Maybe you’ll be worth talking to once you have some food in you.” 

            “Oh, _thank-you_ ,” Relena snapped, standing up and grabbing her purse, stalking past her out the door.  “You’re just a ball of sunshine yourself!” 

            Dorothy just shook her head and shut the door before beginning to follow after her.  Correcting Relena’s phrasing would probably just make her bitchier.  As the other girl whipped around the corner, she stopped and hazarded a sip of coffee… 

            Just barely below scalding.  _Perfect._  

            Smiling happily to herself, she continued at a slow walk, sipping gingerly as she went.  Perhaps her princess’s mood would improve with a latte. 

-

***

-

**Jerusalem, Israel**

            “Thank-you… for everything.” 

            Moira frowned.  “I still don’t know that you’re ready for this.” 

            “I can’t lose him,” he replied simply.  “If I lose him, I don’t know if I’ll ever get another chance to find him again.  I have to go _now_.”  He looked to the doctor.  “I’ll take the crutches and the cane both, and won’t do anything to draw attention.  The main reason they kept catching us before was either my trying to hack into government files, or someone spotting Quatre’s face.” 

            “What about _your_ face?” Moira asked pointedly. 

            He found himself smiling slightly at her.  He was pleased with himself about this, and he reacted to her more than he ever had for anyone else, for some reason… maybe this was what it was like to have a mother.  “During the war, I erased any files of myself as soon as I left.  The handful of times I wasn’t able to, someone else managed it; probably the man who gave me my gundam.  The only one they managed to keep was when I was at a dance, and that was mostly the back of my head.”  The girl had been trying to get a picture of her precious Relena with that blissful expression on her face, not him. 

            He wasn’t sure why this was so important, in all reality… it wasn’t like he and Wufei had ever been close.  He really hadn’t been close to anyone since Odin…  but they _understood_ each other.  They had both survived things that would cause most of the populace to give up and had come out as tempered steel instead of pitiful wretches. 

            He hadn’t realized how sane Quatre’s presence had kept him until the other had gone missing.  Some days he honestly started to think his name was Yukio…  Not that it had ever _really_ been Heero Yuy, but he’d abandoned the name Odin had given him the day he stumbled across J in that alley.  His memory had never extended far enough for him to know if that had actually been his birth name or not… though he was fairly sure he and Odin had shared blood, even though he had always claimed not to be his father.  You wouldn’t _be_ a father to a boy in all the ways he needed while telling him you hadn’t physically sired him when you actually had. 

            …Or would you? 

            He mentally shook himself.  Blood didn’t matter; Odin had raised him, however oddly, until his death.  He had always kept him happy, well-clothed, well-fed and well-exercised… well-trained and quite ready to support himself if push came to shove.  He doubted he’d come out of some random encounter because Odin had never given a damn about strangers, be they man, woman, or babe in arms.  He’d already been putting half the money for their jobs into a separate account for Heero for the last year before it had all crashed down about their heads… 

            _…How much interest would that have built up by now?_   He hadn’t ever cared much about money, so he didn’t know how much an assassin of Odin’s caliber generally made on a job…  And a thought he’d really never considered popped into his head. 

            _What if Odin left me enough to take care of me, had I not started wandering and met J?_   He _had_ always been very responsible for his son…  _What if he’d made arrangements for who would take me in the event of his death?_   Odin hadn’t thought himself so invincible as to not consider the possibility of his death… but, while covert operation tactics and all the weaponry under the sun had been the perfect education for a small child, his father would have been offended by the idea that he discuss the contents of his will with his son.  That was _morbid_. 

            Food for thought… food for another day.  Right now, he needed to find Wufei.  He could look into it when he was running low on funds and could stay in one place for more than a day at a time.  He couldn’t have done it while staying with the Sronas because claiming he’d been picked up by a rebel group on L3 an hour or two after his father had died, and giving over his name and prints to prove he was who Odin had carefully recorded him as when he was five, would have blown the “I’m an exchange student from Kyoto” cover.  He’d been drawing money here and there out of this or that account he had hacked into for the past several months… out of accounts big enough, taking little enough, that it should have moved under the radar just fine.  He’d taken his favorite components out of his old laptop and ditched the rest weeks before Quatre had brought him to the clinic in Jerusalem in an attempt to lose the guy Zechs had tailing him every time he gave the slightest opportunity.  He had built up this trip’s cache in the most roundabout ways he could concoct, and it had worked. 

            Wufei had come from the south, which suggested he might be moving north… or that he would be for the next day or so, at least.  If he was wrong, he’d have to backtrack, but what were instincts for?  North seemed right… and if it wasn’t, it wasn’t like he had anything better to work off of.  Then, once he was far enough away that he was sure he couldn’t be linked back to the Sronas, he’d dye his hair so he looked a little more Caucasian and see what he could do to get himself a gun. 

            Quatre had been packing the one that had served Heero through the war when he disappeared. 

            “I’ll take the bus at first, until I get a solid lead,” he went on when Moira continued to frown at him.  “Then once I’m closer, I’ll take whatever route he does.” 

            “You’ll run out of pain meds in a month,” Moira argued. 

            “I’ve only taken three of them over the past two months,” he admitted.  “It’s not pain I’m worried about; I just need to be sure it heals right.” 

            Samuel moved back to the door, picking his tote up off the table.  “I’ll go get a brace.” 

            “You’re just letting him go?” cried his wife, staring at him in shock. 

            “I know that look,” he returned dryly, stepping out the door; his clinic was within walking distance.  “We can help him, or he’ll sneak out the back door once we’re asleep.  I’ll only be fifteen minutes or so.” 

            Moira spluttered after him for a moment before turning back to Heero.  Her eyes showed her conflicting emotions, and for a second, he thought she might slap him.  Trowa had said Catherine had hit him once for ‘acting stupid.’ 

            Then she started to cry. 

            He stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do.  She was just standing there balling her eyes out…  About _what_?  She was worried about him, she was always worried about him, but _this_ …  He swallowed.  Odin had always said to follow his heart, but J and his colleagues had spent so long trying to grind his emotions out of him entirely that it was hard to remember sometimes…  “Mrs. Srona… I…” 

            She pulled him into a fierce hug.  “Don’t you get yourself killed, you hear me?” she choked out.  “When this is all over and done, I want you to come back and see me, alright?” 

            The awkwardness lasted for a moment longer, but then he gave in and relaxed, really allowing her to hug him… and hugged her back.  It felt… good.  “Alright,” he muttered softly.  Her hair smelled nice; not the same way Relena’s had, not an almost heady rush, just… comforting. 

            “You’re like one of my own boys to me,” she went on, pulling back and cupping his cheek in one hand.  Her eyes were still watery, but she wasn’t outright crying now.  “And you’re always welcome, whether you’re in trouble or not.  We can always work it out; we’ll get out of the neutral zone if we have to.” 

            She couldn’t mean it.  That would mean giving up her home, her communication with her children and sisters, everything about her life that she loved… but with the way she was looking at him, he realized that she really _did_ mean it, every word.  He really wasn’t sure how, or _why_ … but she meant it.  He swallowed hard and nodded mutely.  He… didn’t trust his voice right then. 

            She smiled brightly.  “That’s a good boy.”  She sniffed and turned away from him, bustling off to the kitchen.  “Now, you’re not going anywhere without a full stomach, so you go ahead and pack up your things while I get something on the table.” 

            He stared at the entry to the kitchen for a while, listening to the sounds of her moving about with pots and pans… from the sound of it, he wasn’t leaving without a few sweets either.  Moira never did anything halfway.  He _did_ need to pack…  And the next bus heading in the direction he wanted didn’t leave for another five hours.  She just… 

            _What would I have grown up to be, if Moira had been my mother?_  

            And he was just leaving her… he’d made her cry… 

            Coming to a decision, he limped over to the kitchen and smiled when she turned to look at him.  “Can I help you with anything?” 

            Maybe it wasn’t too late to try. 

-

***

-

**May 2 nd 197 – Tuesday – Amsterdam, Netherlands – Devil’s Den**

            “How long are we going to stay here?” 

            I winced inwardly.  I had been avoiding having this conversation for as long as possible, but Hilde had always been straight to the point.  I could only pass the idea that I was waiting for the trail to go cold on her for so long.  In some ways, I didn’t want her to go; I’d missed her, and she was a true friend, but she would bring danger to the Devils just by her presence, and that was assuming I could talk her into staying in the first place.  She would want me to come with her, but… 

            “Duo?” 

            “You should probably give it another day or so, then head back out,” I muttered eventually. 

            She turned to look at me in surprise and something like horror.  “But-”  She must have seen something in my eyes that confirmed what she was going to ask, because she rose stiffly and moved to walk out of the room. 

            “Hilde…”  I didn’t want it to just end like this.  I wasn’t sure exactly what I _did_ want, but it wasn’t this. 

            “Why don’t you want to come with me?” she demanded heatedly. 

            “It’s not that I don’t want to come with you,” I started to explain. 

            “Then why?” 

            We were starting to draw a crowd.  We’d been relatively alone in one of the smaller living room areas, but Hilde’s voice was rising with every word.  She was about to go into an all-out panic. 

            You’d think Sally would have ground that reaction out of her by now.  Then again, she didn’t do it under physical or even mental pressure; just emotional.  She was too confident in her abilities, warranted or not, to be dissuaded unless someone was actively kicking her ass, and even then it she might not give over. 

            She really would have made a good gundam pilot. 

            “Because I belong here, now,” I muttered, more to myself than her.  I was trying to figure out exactly what I meant by that, so I could put it into better words. 

            “Duo,” she practically growled, getting up in my face so she could whisper at me.  “This place is a dump.” 

            That wasn’t the _point_ , but at least she’d had the forethought not to let the rest hear her say that.  “And our old place during the war _was_ a dump,” I whispered back.  “Well, scrap yard, whatever.” 

            She backed down, looking hurt.  “Why, Duo?” 

            Shit, like it was simple enough to explain…  “It’s…”  _None of your business._   Well, shit, that wouldn’t be too helpful, even if it _was_ true.  “It’s a little complicated.”  _I may run and hide, but I’ll never tell a lie… and this would be a prime example of running._   “Okay, it’s _really_ complicated.  Just trust me, alright?” 

 _I don’t want to fight again.  I don’t want to be Shinigami again._   This life was a second chance, a chance at redemption… and some old buddy from the war was _not_ going to take that away from me. 

            “How _complicated_ can it be?!” she demanded.  She still looked hurt, but her voice was picking up angry volume. 

            I snorted.  “Very.”  The mess with Karina, and the healing I knew had to be happening on some level with the rest… the comfort of the gang, of the church, the children, of being a provider instead of a destroyer…  I didn’t really understand it all that well myself, beyond the fact that I didn’t want it to stop. 

            “You pop out of the blue to save me, and now you’re just going to melt away into the shadows again?  I thought you were dead, Duo, _dead_!” 

            I turned away from her.  “I’m not going to get involved again.” 

            “And what do you call stealing a high priority prisoner?” 

            Something in me broke, at that.  Why didn’t she _get_ it?  “You expected me to leave a _friend_ to interrogation and execution?” I practically screamed.  “You _remember_ how you met me, don’t you?  You remember how beat to shit I was when you were transporting me to the damn chopping block?  You almost shot me yourself!  It was pure dumb _luck_ that I had the rookie who didn’t understand her own zealousness that I could turn around to my way of thinking!  If you had been anybody else, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to get out of my cell, or even if I had, I would’ve been shot down in fucking _vacuum_ instead of helped to escape!  Would you rather I condemn you to _that_?” 

            “Yet I don’t even matter to you?” she screeched right back.  “You save me from an awful fate, you kiss me like you used to, then you tip your hat and say ‘tata’?  You asshole, you’re just a hypocrite, you always cared more about your job than anybody you knew!” 

            Again, she’d just hit the point right on the head, yet missed it entirely.  I _didn’t want_ to be who I was during the war.  “I didn’t want you to go do anything because you were still fresh as hell, and I didn’t want you getting yourself killed!  It would have been my fault if I let anything happen to you, you would have still been with OZ if it hadn’t been for me!” I snapped.  Considering the issues during the last battle, I added, “And when you went behind my back to play spy, you just about did anyhow!”  She’d far overshot any of my expectations for her in battle, taking down the Vayeate that had Trowa’s tactics programmed in, but her life support had literally been about five minutes from dying once I finished off the battle. 

            “You’re a chauvinistic pig who was just worried about getting more blood on his hands,” she snarled.  “You’ve never _really_ given a damn, or else you would have realized what else was all going on, and you’d be _out_ there _with_ me now!” 

            I stopped dead at that, realizing the truth behind her words.  Not what she was saying; what she was trying to _do_.  I scowled, letting the coldness I’d been feeling deep in my chest for a while now rise… and crossed my arms.  “Oh really?” 

-

***

-

            Luc put a hand over Sin’s as her grip on his arm tightened, but kept his eyes on the fighting couple.  Chaos was doing what he did when he went into a real fight… and Sin hadn’t ever seen that side of him before.  They hadn’t gotten here that long ago, and since English wasn’t his first language and they were talking so fast with thickening colony accents, he could hardly make out what they saying – but he caught the mood just fine. 

            “Oh really?” 

            _Well, at least he’s going to let her finish picking it, and not take the first blow._   Chaos fought dirty, generally speaking. 

            Her mood changed just as suddenly as his.  She narrowed her eyes.  “ _Don’t_ ,” she growled at him, her fists clenching. 

            Oh, so she knew what this was; maybe better than he did, from that glimmer in her eye. 

            “Don’t what?” Chaos returned playfully, cheerfully even.  At least, if you weren’t looking at his eyes. 

            “You know damn well what I mean, don’t you use your fucking battle persona on me.” 

            Luc supposed that was a good name for it. 

            He laughed… and it was almost genuine.  There was something cold about it, though, a definitive edge.  “Oh, but this is what you want, isn’t it?  You don’t want _me_ back, you want the old Shinigami to help you fight your new war.” 

            “Shinigami…” Sin muttered, pursing her lips.  Looking up at her boyfriend, she asked, “Doesn’t that mean, like, ‘Satan’, or something?” 

            “It wouldn’t surprise me,” he returned softly, pulling her tighter against him and taking a step back.  They both fought incredibly well, but he didn’t know that either of them was aware enough of their surroundings to keep it confined to the space they already had, once it started.  He saw a few others stepping back too, and motioned at the rest to do so as well. 

            “If you weren’t verging on a split personality,” she spat back, changing her stance to be ready for an onslaught, “then you’d realize that saying one is asking the other.” 

            And… something changed in Chaos again.  He completely dropped the ‘persona’ and seemed to slump over.  “Why don’t you _get_ it?” he demanded suddenly, his voice half choked with coming tears. 

            Sin started to move like she was going to go to him, but Luc grabbed her shoulder and shook his head.  The two of them needed to resolve this somehow, whatever ‘this’ was.  She gave him a scathing look, but stayed where she was; she wasn’t happy about it, but she understood. 

            Hilde had completely dropped her stance, and was staring at Chaos in shock.  “Duo…” 

-

***

-

            “I don’t _want_ to be Duo anymore,” I cried, my face starting to go numb.  “I don’t want to fight a war I don’t even _understand_ anymore!  Why don’t you _get_ it?!” 

            I had told her my past – at least some of it – after I came back from my experience with Zero.  I’d broken down like this, and she had held me as I tried to explain what had happened, about how I couldn’t stand the thought of losing her, that it would be my fault all over again the same way it was with Solo, with everyone at the church… how I thought I was doomed and damned to have everyone I ever cared about die because of what I did… 

            Why didn’t she understand? 

            “Hey, hey, shh,” she soothed, pulling me into her arms…  When had I sat down?  We were sitting on the floor, and I guess it didn’t matter, but still…  “I’m sorry, I just misunderstood, huh?  I just…” 

            “It’s like Solo never died, here,” I tried to explain.  “Like the plagues still wiped out most everybody, but I snagged the cure in time and saved him; he kept growing up and taking care of everybody, and shit, he’s got a kid on the way.  Only real difference is he cut all his hair off…”  I pulled away from her some and wiped at my eyes.  I didn’t remember when I’d started crying, but there it was again.  “And there’s a church here, with war orphans… it’s like the old church never got firebombed.  It’s, like…  like none of the stuff that made me into the desperate shit I was when I broke into G’s ship…  It’s like none of it ever happened, Hilde.  I’m getting a second chance, to do it all _right_ this time!  And even if it doesn’t work in the end…  I’ve gotta try, you know?  Else I’ll never really know, and I’ll always be wondering…  I get to help people now, I’m _important_ here…” 

            _Duo died over a year ago, when he saw **Libra** crashing into Earth, when he was so cold he couldn’t feel anything but pain, even though he was sweating and gasping for air… and maybe that should have been the end.  _

_But the issue is, I’m still breathing._  

            I really looked at her again, and felt more tears fall down my face as I tried to wipe hers away.  “Hey, don’t cry just because I’m a fuck-up, huh?  I’ll figure it out, you know me.  I’ve just gotta put my back into it, give it everything I’ve got…”  I sighed.  “And I know you have to too, huh?  That’s why you have to go.”  _That and if anyone around here sees her face, all the Devils will end up in jail, and I can’t let that happen._  

            “But I want you to come with me,” she whispered, starting to cry harder. 

            On some level I wanted to go with her too.  It’d be like old times, only twice the kickass because Heero wasn’t around to be Mr. Antisocial and Hilde was all sweetness and light ‘till you made her bite…  But I didn’t believe in all that anymore.  I’d tried so hard to make things right, before, and it had all failed anyway.  I wasn’t so stupid as to keep trying the same gig and hoping for better results.  I was going to try something else… and damnit, I wasn’t going to lose this time. 

            “I’m sorry… but I can’t.”  I ducked in closer and whispered in her ear, “I’d tell you where my old buddy was, but I don’t even know where the pieces might be, at this point.”  Taking a deep breath, I asked the question I’d been fighting to keep in since I’d saved her.  “Are any of the other guys still around?” 

            She shook her head, letting out another tiny little sob.  “I don’t know.” 

            “Hey, calm down, they’re probably up to the same kind of shit as me.”  I didn’t believe it, but hey, it was entirely possible, wasn’t it?  I leaned back to give her a little personal space, then reached over to cup her face in my hands.  “Hilde, listen to me…  You can’t tell anyone that I’m here.  If you do, people might get just as upset as you were that I’m hiding out, and they might come after me to try to make me change my mind, but that’d be too much traffic coming through here, Zechs’ people would notice, and then it’ll all be over for me.  Can you do that, for me?  If you find one of the other guys, go ahead and tell them, that’s okay, but… not Sally or anybody else, huh?” 

            She stared at me for a while, and for a minute I thought she was going to refuse… but then she nodded.  I couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief.  Without really thinking about it, I leaned forward to kiss her, and couldn’t have said how glad I was when she kissed me back fiercely instead of pushing me away or just letting me.  “When this is all over,” I told her sincerely, “whether you’re right and you guys can win this, or whether it all goes to hell and you need to run, need someone you can trust… try to find me again, and I’ll find you, okay?  Whatever you’ve been thinking all this time…  I care alright?  I always will.”  I offered her a wink.  “And even if you end up falling for some other guy, I’m still your friend, huh?” 

            She threw herself into my arms and hugged me tight.  “Yeah,” she sniffed, hiding her face in my neck and shoulder.  “Of course you are.” 

            I smiled and held her as tight as I could, while doing my damndest to glare everyone in the room away before Hilde really remembered they were all there.  My life lately was everyone’s favorite soap opera, but come on, they could at least offer me a little decency on this one…  The girls all looked about ready to cry themselves and turned to leave without hesitation, though a few made a point to drag some of the guys with them.  Most of them looked amused, and gave up a surrendering expression with a grin before ducking back out of the room quietly.  Shov was outright gaping at us, but Sin smacked him hard upside the head while Luc shoved him in the direction of the door. 

            Hilde sniffed again.  “I made a pretty big scene, huh?” 

            I grinned without shifting away, rubbing her back.  “Yeah, well, I get the feeling that’s what they all keep me around for these days anyhow.” 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

 


	11. Degrees of Suspiciousness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's interesting, the things that stand out - that you remember - compared to those that sneak right past your radar.

**-**

_**Degrees of Suspiciousness** _

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**May 2 nd 197 – Tuesday – Brussels, Belgium**

            “Hey!” 

            Relena didn’t bother looking up as Dorothy greeted the man back enthusiastically.  “Hey!  You’re actually awake at a decent hour, are you sick?” 

            The guy sniggered.  “I got incredibly side-tracked and am now on a roll… and hungry, so yeah.” 

            “You ran out of Pop Tarts again?” Dorothy teased. 

            He only sniggered more.  “All five flavors.” 

            “I seriously think your diet is lacking in something, Jake.” 

            “ _What_ diet?”  He laughed naughtily and went on to say, “Come on, I’ve got an omelet, I’m getting some protein in there.” 

            “One of these days someone’s going to kick your scrawny ass, and you won’t be able to do anything about it because you’ll be too weak to fight back.” 

            “Oh, like they’d get within a hundred yards before I shot them.” 

            Relena couldn’t help but giggle a little at that. 

            “Hi.” 

            She smiled a little, still not looking up.  “Good morning.” 

            “Really?” 

            “Really,” she agreed, jotting down another note.

            “You don’t look it.” 

            “I’ve always been told that it’s what’s inside that counts,” she noted dryly. 

            “All work and no play, huh?” 

            “I like my work,” she returned easily. 

            “Can I see?” 

            She finally looked up at him, skeptical.  The man’s dishwater blonde hair was tousled, and the faded t-shirt and jeans hardly inspired confidence. 

            “Please?” 

            His blue eyes were sincere and lit up with interest, so she decided to dismiss his shaggy hair and sleep-rumpled clothes.  “I doubt it’s your kind of thing,” she noted, pushing her notepad over to him. 

            “Alright,” he agreed happily, and Relena watched him, waiting for disinterest to spread across his features.  Dorothy made a noise that Relena couldn’t decipher the mood or meaning of… though there was something mischievous about her eyes.  She looked back to the guy, Jake… and realized he was entirely focused. 

            “What cities were you think of centering this in?” he asked after a moment. 

            She bit her lip.  “I’m not entirely sure, to be honest.  I was thinking probably the worst places first, but even that I don’t really understand the scope of because I haven’t been let _in_ to the bad areas to try to assess.  Though,” she defended, pointing at the pad he was now starting to flip through, “what I didn’t write down is that I would want to vary it from area to area, depending on what they needed.” 

            “And break it down into different sectors if it’s a particularly bad area, so no one department gets too overloaded or so big that we don’t have individuals dealing directly with individuals,” he read back to her, grinning a bit.  “You wrote it down.” 

            Relena laughed a little, not entirely sure what to make of this… and Dorothy’s sparkling eyes and smirk didn’t help keep the flush out of her cheeks.  She supposed that was what she got for underestimating him by his looks… and really, she should have learned not to do that after meeting Quatre.  “I guess I’m a bit scatterbrained about it, honestly…  I’ve been cooking it up in my head for a while, but I only started trying to put it to paper an hour or so ago.” 

            He shrugged, yanking a pen out of his pocket and writing on a bit of margin space on the first page.  “You should go talk to Valerie Grandel, over in Reconstruction; she can tell you where everything’s worst from the fallout, and Zechs might let you-” 

            “The man’s name is Milliardo,” Dorothy noted, mildly annoyed. 

            “-get your hands dirty if you do it publicly so people start remembering you’re still around, and have humanitarian interests,” he continued without pause, completely ignoring the comment.  “You can get a better feel for it in general, there, and make everyone realize you’re serious.”  He started writing another name.  “And try to find a guy named Jerome Moretti.  He’ll be able to give you a good idea of what places need the most work and why, all that; he’s chasing down rebels day and night.” 

            Relena frowned.  “So… Department of Defense?” 

            “He generally doesn’t sit still enough to keep an office, but his little sister works down in Reconstruction, and they have lunch together whenever he’s in town.  Unless you want to chase rumors all day of where he _might_ have been, you need to get Kelly to call him.” 

            “Alright…”  She certainly hadn’t expected such a help, but she definitely appreciated it.  “Thank-you.”

            He shook his head.  “No problem.  Once you get something a little more detailed sketched out, I’ll crunch the numbers for you.  I mean, you could send it over to the people who’re supposed to be doing that, but they have this tendency to not get back to you for days on end.” 

            That sounded like an incredibly good idea, especially considering the fact that she wanted the kinks worked out of the whole thing before she showed it to her brother.  “I think I’ll take you up on that,” she told him gratefully. 

            “Just drop by sometime,” he returned amiably, passing her pad back to her. 

            She was going to thank him again, maybe start a less serious kind of conversation, but Dorothy spoke before she could.  “She thinks the idea of a recon and strike force to take down the more radical groups is good too.” 

            “Then find a way to promote or fire the asshole working above Mitchell, and we’ll set the wheels turning,” he returned irritably.  “ _Everyone_ thinks it’s a good idea, it’s just that Lee’s too focused on the rebels to give a damn about the anarchists.” 

            “Why not make it a separate division within Defense, though?” Relena asked curiously. 

            “You’d have to convince the higher ups it was actually necessary first, and something fairly bad will probably have to happen to change that.”  He considered Relena for a minute before shrugging again.  “You might be able to pull it off after you show some success organizing this, but yeah, I don’t really know.” 

            “Mm… thank-you, then.” 

            “Don’t mention it.”  He stood; somehow or other, despite all the talking and reading, he’d managed to clean his plate.  Rolling his eyes, muttered, “I’ll see you two around sometime.  I want to try to finish what I’ve been about all morning before I crash.” 

            They said their good-byes, and Relena glanced at the neatly written out names before smiling at Dorothy.  “That was helpful.” 

            She snorted.  “I could have told you all that, I was just going to wait until you had finished putting it on paper to bother.” 

            “Mm.”  She took a couple bites of her hash browns before deciding, “I think you’re jealous.” 

            “And I think you need orange juice in your hair,” Dorothy noted sweetly as she took a sip of the mentioned drink. 

            She almost jerked out of reach before she realized the other girl wasn’t about to actually do it… and hid her almost giggle by taking a sip of milk.  She had the glass tipped and was about to actually drink when the Dorothy muttered, “He’s cute enough to give you dreams, isn’t he?” 

            She coughed, hard, and suddenly she had milk coming out of her nose, but she still couldn’t breathe, so after slamming the glass back down, sloshing it over her hand, she started pounding on her chest, trying to get her wind back. 

            Once she’d recovered, she turned to glare at her friend, who blinked, then snorted.  “You’re a _princess_ , fairytales, come on…” 

            …The problem was that she couldn’t tell whether or not she was lying.

            “It’s not _my_ fault your mind was in the gutter,” she went on. 

            …That little smirk could mean that she was playing at having been clueless, or just amused that Relena had gotten milk all over the place. 

            “What?” 

            “You’re obnoxious,” Relena decided, standing up to head to the bathroom and try to clean herself up. 

            The blonde woman snorted.  “ _You’re_ pmsing.” 

            …There wasn’t a whole lot to say to that. 

-

***

-

**Akko, Israel**

            The situation was… touchy. 

            He hadn’t figured out whether it was a good thing or not that there seemed to be a manhunt for Wufei.  On the one hand, it made his search easier, and the people were being subtle about it, which suggested it might not be with the full jurisdiction of the law, but some other group instead.  On the other hand, the subtlety _could_ just mean they knew they were dealing with someone smart and were avoiding alerting him, and that many people spotting Heero near them could be bad. 

            The root of the issue was really making sure he himself wasn’t suspect to becoming hunted himself for suspicious behavior. 

            Like following _them_ , for acting suspicious. 

            It was probably time to fall back before it became obvious.  He stepped into a small diner and headed over to the barstools.  It was convenient for eating alone, really… it had a way of not looking so strange as a young man sitting alone at a full table, despite the small duffel by his feet.  He asked for water when the waitress came over to him, trying to offer a carefree smile before focusing back on the menu…  he knew he wasn’t all that good at that, but a moody teenager had a way of staying in your memory, and practice was generally the only way to get better. 

            In retrospect, some of his school identities probably would have been sniffed out earlier if not for his associations with the more popular Duo and Relena.  Few people his age really appeared so serious… so he needed to work on a better façade. 

            The blueberry waffles looked really good…  Odin had always liked to keep a waffle iron among the things they traveled with, because, as he put it, it was a small, guaranteed stove… and for all that they had very rarely made actual waffles in the thing, he had always liked them on the occasions that they had. 

            He needed to wait until all these people moved back out of town… and then he could follow their considerably more visible trail. 

-

***

-

**May 5 th 197 – Friday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            _“Ah, godverdomme…”_

            In the process of opening the door of my generally affable employer’s office, about to check in for my night of work, I blinked and finished entering.  _“Wat is er?”_   _What’s wrong?_  

            The room he kept his small desk in was also the ‘employee’s lounge,’ which was to say he had a few vending machines in there that we were allowed full access to, so long as we didn’t slack off too bad.  He had been rifling through his desk, but he motioned at one of the machines.  “It keeps losing power, but the plug’s fine, it’s something inside the damn thing, and I had a guy who was gonna come look at it tonight, but Kale took the damn keys home…” 

            I grimaced.  The machine was one of the less conventional sorts, and included sandwiches and bottles of milk, and seeing as lack of power meant lack of refrigeration, that was just a nasty prospect.  Not to mention the fact that Mr. Tate would have to pay the company for what spoiled, which meant in turn that wages might get a little shaved this week. 

            When you make nine bucks an hour, getting shaved a few bucks is a big deal, especially when it’s a physical job and you don’t get to eat on your break.  I worked a twelve-hour shift, and while Tate would let me run and grab something to eat, that meant both more money than the three bucks that made a fairly healthy meal out of the machines, a ton of grease, and more time off the payroll; there were advantages to being able to scarf something in three minutes before getting back to work. 

            I considered for a moment.  I knew I could get the thing open… but I was worried about possibly staining whatever image my boss had of me and sowing the seeds of suspicion for if anyone else broke into it later.  I had no intention of ever doing so…  I was more than grateful for the job with no questions asked, and you don’t shit in your own back yard, so to speak.  Half of my pay went to the water bill though, and usually a good third or so went to the church, but Luc had been hitting bottom of his funds trying to get Sin to see a real doctor before the baby was born, so I’d already told the Father I wouldn’t be able to give him anything this month… and I supposed I was already going to probably have to steal to pull it off, a little more wouldn’t hurt too bad, but really, it was the principle of the thing. 

            I had told the Father that I didn’t want to get a job because I was worried about the repercussions if I got caught in who I was… but that seemed less and less likely, anymore.  I was trying to set a better example for Amos, and an honest day’s work made me feel good, useful…  I mean, I’d take a better job if I could, I got paid shit and could have done the work in my sleep, something a little more complicated would be nice… but there was that whole not having a social security number thing, or finding an employer who didn’t want a background check.  It kept me from fiddling and getting too bored. 

            And I wanted to help, to be perfectly honest… and Tate was an understanding guy.  If I played it right, I could work myself deeper into his favor instead of out of it. 

            “Can you call the guy you’ve got coming?” I asked curiously. 

            He grimaced more and shook his head.  “Nah, it’s some kid Dale said was good with machines, and he just told him to come in tonight.  He’s just out for a bit of cash, kind of thing.” 

            I bit the inside of one cheek, making a show of thinking about it, and leaned against the doorframe before muttering, “You know…  I’m good with machines.” 

            He sat back in his chair and gave me a calculating look.  “Are you now?” 

            “Repaired ships and suits back during the war,” I admitted, shrugging a little.  “Was with the Sweepers before I came to Earth, before all the shit with the gundams hit the fan, ended up working in a scrap yard for a while during the war, and eventually got picked up for…”  I grimaced, “more conflict related work.” 

            He pursed his lips.  “The Sweepers, huh?” 

            The group had a reputation both for fine work with machinery, but also the notoriety they had gained from their involvement with the war.  “They’re how I first started getting settled into life down here,” I admitted easily, “but I cut once all the shit with the colonies and Earth got into full swing.”  I swear, the dumbasses had been trying to get me killed, at that point.  Their support had been great, and they were a great place to run to for shelter and supplies, like when I had broken Heero back out of the hospital I’d put him in… but bureaucracy, bureaucracy, bureaucracy. 

            “You’re hiding from a debt with the Sweepers, that’s it?” he asked curiously.  He had a dawning sort of enlightenment in his eyes… I hadn’t ever realized that he might be curious about where the hell I’d come from. 

            I grimaced again.  “And White Fang was trying to get me to do stuff for them before the whole _Libra_ thing…  I’d really rather they not remember my exit, I didn’t turn them down all that gracefully.”  Offering to physically throw them out of my and Hilde’s place had probably been what had gotten the idea in her head that she should go spy on them for me, and then hey, let’s not forget that whole trying to blow _Libra_ into pieces thing… 

            “Shit, you’re hit from both sides, yeah?” 

            I made a face, thinking of Hilde’s reaction to my not wanting to be part of the rebellion.  “Basically, yeah.” 

            “Huh…”  He stared off for a bit, then focused back on me.  “It’s still locked though, and Kale bolted out of town to Utecht to see his kids.”  He tilted his head, giving me an almost expectant kind of look. 

            “Well, I was going to offer to jigger it too, if you wanted me to,” I muttered sheepishly. 

            He smirked.  “I kinda figured when you brought up working with all that.”  He stood up and gestured at the thing.  “Be my guest.” 

            I grinned broadly.  “Just let me get some cardboard, then.” 

            “Cardboard?” 

            “Well, I could pick it normal,” I explained, motioning at the little circular ace lock, “but it might take a while, and I know another trick.  If it doesn’t work, I’ll do it the old fashioned way.”  I pursed my lips.  “I’ll probably need some pliers and electrical tape once I get in there, though.  Something to check voltage if I have to troubleshoot…  I was fixing up some stuff in the church last month, so I can run home and grab my stuff real quick, if that’s alright.” 

            He blinked.  “Church?” 

            “The little Catholic one, down on Ander,” I agreed. 

            He narrowed his eyes at me.  “ _You’re_ that boy the Father always talks about?” 

            I blinked.  Tate had never exactly struck me as Catholic… not that I actually knew more than his name and general mood swings, but yeah.  “He talks about me?”  I wasn’t worried that he might have said anything that I wouldn’t want heard about but… to be perfectly honest, the idea had never occurred to me.  I’d gotten the work recommends through Luc.  Tate knew I was in a gang, but he also knew the Devils didn’t cause trouble, and that Luc wasn’t above knocking one of his people back in line if they needed it. 

            “Where’s your paycheck go?” he asked, frowning. 

            “Half of it to the den’s bills, usually, and most of the rest to the church,” I admitted.  “Luc has other people making sure there’s always food about, so I don’t usually have to worry about that, but I like having a little emergency money on hand.”  Stealing was getting to be a worse idea as the economy took another dive; I didn’t like the idea of taking from anybody who might be needing… and the Sister and Father gave me looks when they knew I’d given more than a third of what I actually made. 

            “…You’re younger than I’d thought,” he decided eventually. 

            I chuckled a little.  “The war made it so a lot of us had to grow up fast.” 

            He sighed, looking more tired than I’d ever seen him.  “And the tension and all the skirmishes did the same thing for the twenty or more years before the gundams came down.  Now, with the fallout and war trying to brew all over again…”  He shook his head.  “It’s a crazy world, kid.  You go get your stuff, I’ll tell that brat he took too long getting here if he bothers to show up; Luc and Espen both said you’re good on your word, and I trust Sweeper work, just can’t afford it.” 

            I grinned again and bolted back out of the room, heading back to the den for my tools.  I’d opened another door for myself… and who knew what new opportunities it would bring. 

-

***

-

**Beirut, Lebanon**

            The guy was just too close. 

            I briefly debated what to do.  Getting caught wasn’t an option, but that might not be the greater of my two problems.  I shouldn’t be recognized too easily, but if the blood started seeping through my shirt before I made it onto the train, the crowd would want to call a doctor, and my tail would be on me before I could dance back out of sight. 

            Not to mention the fact that I’d be hard-pressed not to faint if I looked too close at the mess myself.  I might be a master in both armed and unarmed combat, but seeing my own blood, especially in such amounts, was incredibly unnerving. 

            I took a deep breath and gently pulled my coat on, trying to shift casually as I moved deeper into the crowd.  There were advantages to being short; the people following me would be hard-pressed to keep track of me if I moved right.  I pulled the rubber band out of my hair and shoved it in my coat pocket, pulling out one of the hats that everyone seemed to be wearing around here, and did my best to pull my hair up and tuck what the hat didn’t catch back under it.  The muscles in my right bicep were screaming, but the binding of the bandages gave me a little extra strength in it, and once my head was covered, I tucked my right hand into my pocket so I could rest the arm without being too obvious about it.  Then I ducked a little lower, and outright ran for my destination. 

            People seemed slightly put off by my abrupt movement, but merely annoyed; they could only expect that sort of obnoxious behavior from a teenage boy, and I hadn’t bumped into _them_ , so it wasn’t an issue.  I heard a few comments of “Hey, watch it” but for the most part they seemed content to let me fall into the hands of the trouble I would _actually_ make eventually by being reckless.  With the low brim of my hat and the black of my visible hair, they probably didn’t even consider the idea that I might be foreign.  It wouldn’t be immediately obvious that my skin tone wasn’t quite olive enough or that my build was too slight for me to be of Arabic descent even if they actually bothered to think about it… and even then, since they couldn’t see my face, they might just dismiss me as Egyptian. 

            …Or a girl.  I scowled at that, but there wasn’t exactly anything I could do about it… and to be perfectly honest, right now, I needed to take whatever fortune I might be granted, even if it was embarrassing.  I could salve my pride when I was sure I would still be breathing in a few hours. 

            The boards were ahead.  Ankara, Ankara…  _Departing._  

            I started all-out running.  I could see the ancient machine starting to pick up speed, but waved frantically at the porter with my good hand, which had my ticket in it.  He raised his brows at me and made a sort of “come-on” gesture, looking up and down the pavement before grabbing onto one of the rails on the side of the door and leaning out with one hand outstretched. 

            I smirked a little to myself even as I took another deep breath and pumped my legs so that a few moments later I was grabbing his hand and throwing my weight up into the alcove; I was safe, for now.  No one chasing after me was catching the same train, and it was straightaway to the capital of Turkey. 

            “Cutting it a little close, aren’t we?” the man asked, chuckling a little as he took my ticket and inspected it briefly before handing it back to me and pulling out a notepad to check off my number. 

            “My apologies,” I muttered sincerely, ducking my head slightly; there wasn’t enough room for me to bow.  With my arm like it was, I wasn’t sure I would have been able to pull myself on board without his help, so I was truly indebted to him, even if he didn’t realize it.  The infection was bad, and I knew I needed to clean it again; it was throbbing and burning in a telltale way.  Once I got some food, it might be safe to take some of the painkillers I had gotten from the doctor in Jerusalem before crashing in the bunk my ticket allotted me.  I wasn’t due for the antibiotics for another few hours, but I had already set the alarm on my watch so I wouldn’t be late on it.  I was wary of the drugs too, but it had been almost two weeks since I had slept well, from the pain… 

            Stupidity was what had gotten a bullet in me; a little anxiety when in a locked bunk on a moving train was too light a penance, but I needed to _not_ be sleep deprived the next time I met trouble… and I needed to heal as quickly as possible, and a good, deep sleep was part of that.  Po was going to be furious enough with my situation as it was, without needing to confine me in a sickbed for another few weeks once I finally made it back to the base.  The last thing I needed to do was let the infection spread further in my body, or not allow the muscle to knit itself back together. 

            “Your bunk will be to your right,” the man explained as he led the way into the cab.  “Two cars down.” 

            “Thank-you.”  I was safe; at least for the next fifteen hours. 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**


	12. Starter Mix: Sweet or Sour?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's nothing quite like getting all your ducks in a row, everything nicely lined up, and making a fresh start. Then again, what defines 'fresh'?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...So I edited the last scene to include politics and such that became more relevant. This is why editing and re-posting ends up taking so long...

**-**

_**Starter Mix: Sweet or Sour?** _

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**May 6 th 197 – Saturday – Brussels, Belgium**

            Relena knocked on the open door with one knuckle before leaning into the dark room.  “Anyone here?” she asked quietly.  It didn’t look like it, but the door was open… 

            “Just working on wrecking my eyes,” someone muttered wryly.  “One sec…”  She heard some rustling of cloth and the squeak of a chair before the lights switched on.  Jake stood, again in jeans and a t-shirt, blinking at her.  “Oh, hey…  Um,” he picked a pile of papers up off a chair and dropped it on the floor.  “Come on in.  What’s up?” 

            “Um… I was hoping you could crunch those numbers for me?” 

            “Oh, yeah.”  He smiled and held out his hand for the folder.  “Sorry, it’s just the end of the day for me, so I’m not thinking too well.” 

            Relena smiled as she passed it to him.  It was only two in the afternoon, but Dorothy had told her about the odd hours that Jake kept.  “Just, whenever you can get to it.  Thank-you, again.” 

            He yawned as he flipped through the papers.  “It’s not a problem, or I wouldn’t have offered.  I’ll do it once I get back up.”  He glanced over at a clock.  “Will you still be here at eight, or no?” 

            “I may or may not be in my office, but I keep rooms on base, so you can just call my cell if you can’t find me.” 

            He blinked at her.  “So you wouldn’t want me to just leave it on your desk?” 

            She offered him a somewhat sheepish look.  “I’m trying to get the details all figured out before my brother finds out what I’ve been up to the past couple days.” 

            “Ah… well, alright then.”  He closed the folder and grinned at her.  “My lips are sealed.”  He sat down on the chair he’d vacated for her and started to untie his boots.  “I’ll do it first thing once I wake up, and come find you.”  At her confused look, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder at another door.  “I already had the space to myself, so I had a bed put back in there.  I like having all my stuff together, less places to look if I lose something.” 

            “That’s… convenient.”  She liked the suite of rooms that Milliardo had given her, but she spent time in them so rarely, and she always seemed to leave something important in them, so she ended up walking the breadth of the base to fetch things several times a day.  Milliardo worked out of his rooms, but she liked having her office in the middle of everything. 

            “I like to think so,” he agreed as he pulled his foot out of his second boot… and gave her a pointed look. 

            She flushed, and headed for the door.  “Sorry, I don’t seem to be thinking.  I’ll see you later.” 

            “Later,” he agreed amiably enough as she shut the door behind herself…. And rested her back against it.  _Stupid._   Invading his personal space, not taking a hint…  She shook her head and walked briskly back to Dorothy’s office.  _Where are my manners?_  

-

***

-

 **May 7 th 197 – Sunday** – **Ankara, Turkey**

            Heero stared at the ceiling for a while after he woke up, considering his options.  He was fairly sure that none of his roommates were a danger to him, but that didn’t mean he felt comfortable with them there.  In the end, he had settled into a light sleep on a top bunk, which rattled fiercely even when he did his best to climb it quietly.  He had knives strapped to the insides of his wrists and with the sheaths loose, so he could pull them out quickly if a fight were to start.  Before he could get a gun, he’d need an I.D. that said he was old enough to carry one, and preferably, he could get a carry permit from whoever he got the I.D. from.  He could make up his own, but he trusted a professional’s work in actual papers more than his own. 

            He could steal one, but then it would be reported missing, and any bullets found unaccounted for anywhere could be matched up to that gun, and he could be tracked that way. 

            He really didn’t want a registered gun.  Papers that said it was registered, but no actual registration.  Not being actively hunted was nice; he wasn’t about to jeopardize his position, not when he couldn’t even walk very fast. 

            Quatre wasn’t even there.  Quatre had been able to still run fairly fast even while carrying him, though he wasn’t sure if that was a testament to the blonde’s strength or his own lack of build.  But now Quatre was gone, and he had no leads, no idea where to even _start_ looking for his friend… for his friend’s body… 

            He shook his head and focused back on what he _could_ do; sinking into a depression would get him nothing.  Wufei had caught a train to Ankara, and Heero had managed to hitchhike there with a trucker and arrive in the city about the same time the train was due in… but had no idea where the station was.  By the time he managed to find it, it was four hours later, and he knew better than to think the Chinese man might have stayed there that long.  He saw no sign of the searchers he had come across in Beirut… which could mean a couple different things. 

            The most obvious was that they had caught him and now had no reason to be searching.  He was fairly sure that they would have flown at least a couple of their men to Ankara so they would arrive before Wufei.  On the other hand, Wufei might have hopped the train at some earlier point and foiled all their searches… hopped the train and been caught anyhow… or he might have managed to come here and slip past his pursuers some other way still. 

            He wasn’t about to underestimate the other gundam pilot. 

            Still, his tardiness and lack of assumptions about the Chinese man meant he had no leads, which meant he was going to have to do something he’d been trying to avoid.  He’d need get into the train station records, see whether or not he’d gotten off as scheduled at Ankara. 

            Which meant hacking into the database. 

            He could try to sneak in, but quite frankly the facility wasn’t large, and all the employees likely knew each other, which meant either making a very good friend very quickly, or pushing his luck to see how long it was before security broke down the door – likely long before he figured out an ID and password. 

            He wasn’t terribly good at making friends. 

            He wasn’t terribly good at running, these days. 

            He rolled over on one side to look over the youth hostel room.  The shower was down the hall, and he needed to take one, before it got crowded and someone could wonder about his scars.  He sat up and opened his bag to get his towel… and found himself staring at the laptop the Sronas had given him. 

            It would barely be a blip on the radar.  He could do it fast enough that a trace couldn’t catch… 

            …but he’d thought that before too. 

            Sighing, he shoved his things into a locker and climbed down, making sure he had his key before leaving.  During the war, the idea that someone could scare superstition into him would have seemed preposterous, but now there was that gnawing fear that if he started treading the net as arrogantly as he used to, he would find soldiers chasing him.  He was almost home free as he was now; he did _not_ need Zechs on his tail again. 

            No one was in any of the shower stalls; it was four in the morning local time, after all.  Just the same, he was careful to hang his clothes over the door so that they wouldn’t get terribly wet or drop to the other side while he enjoyed the hot water.  They would be disgustingly damp, but he had too many scars for his age, and there was always the chance that someone else might have had the same idea of bathing before any one else could disturb them. 

            _It’s not really so bad,_ he told himself as he leaned forward to let the water run down his back, then cranked up the heat.  It really felt amazingly good…  

            That was one thing he loved about Earth: no water restrictions.  He could stand here in the water until he used up everything in the boiler, which might mean over an hour, in a place so big as this… and it was no hassle, no worry.  He was technically in a desert, but the sea wasn’t far, and desalinization was a cheap process.  The heat he could soak up into his body made his leg more limber.  He stretched it several times a day and rested whenever he could, but hot water just… soothed. 

            Despite the more logical part of his brain, he had a feeling he’d need that extra mobility today. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            Duo opened his door, yawning… and blinked at the sticky notes stuck to it.  There were three of them…. And the odd thing wasn’t so much the number, but that they were different colors.  Different colors meant different people… 

            …and they were all repair jobs? 

            He grinned broadly as he took them down, reading them through… one was near the church.  If he ran, he could probably get it done before he was due to pick up Amos and bring him back to the den to wash.  He was already dressed, and he momentarily checked himself over for anything particularly discriminating before ducking into his room to grab his hat; it was the one he’d had when he met G, when he started up with the Sweepers.  It didn’t have any sort of marking, he’d had it for a while before he snuck onboard the ship, but it had a sort of sentimental value, a meaning to him, if he was going to be fixing something.  He was fond of symbolism. 

            He had fixed the vending machine for his boss the night before last… and he already had three jobs on recommends.  This wasn’t any kind of solid work, the same way Tate paid him under the table, so there were no real risks implied… especially since every week since the war, people thought less and less about the old soldiers and more about how to make rent or feed their kids.  And in such a mechanized, old city as this one, cheap, reliable repair work was more than enough to turn a blind eye for your mother’s own murderer, let alone some sixteen-year-old punk. 

            _Why didn’t I think of this before?_  

            He waved and kept running when people tried to catch his attention; he could explain when he came back for wash-up, if they didn’t already know.  It wasn’t as if strangers had waltzed in to put their own work to his bedroom door; they’d dropped it off up front and who knew who’d gone and stuck them up there for him. 

            Amos was waiting on the stoop of the church for him, and he motioned for him to join him – the boy might learn something from watching, after all – before he caught sight of Cal.  He sharply motioned for the kid to wait, and watched the older man warily. 

            The blonde crossed his arms.  “Where’s my girl?” 

            “Probably eating, right now,” he noted. 

            “I haven’t seen her in two weeks,” he returned just as coolly, his eyes steady. 

            “Yeah, that’s the funny thing,” he started, shoving his hands in his coat, mostly to see how the other man would react, but also to make sure his gun’s safety was off.  “She decided she didn’t really want to see you anymore.” 

            “Oh really now.” 

            He didn’t like this guy’s calm; rages were messier, but generally easier to predict.  People who were icy calm when pissed off or freaked out had a tendency to do things like jump out a fifty-story window and not pull their parachute. 

            Well, Cal wasn’t suicidal, but the point was all the same; he was capable of crazy shit. 

            “Yeah, something about you not likely to be a great dad.” 

            He raised his brows.  “So… No dad is better than superdad?” 

            Duo scowled.  “Tell me, did you honestly _want_ it once she told you?”  Sin hadn’t mentioned much of Cal’s opinion on the baby, and once she’d decided she wasn’t going to have an abortion, she’d been resolute. 

            The Father and Luc had made a comment or two about bruises, and she had the right attitude about the Slinger that she didn’t with Luc that the profile fit like a glove.  That was enough for him, whatever she tried to claim when her back was up. 

            “It’s _mine_ ,” he snapped.  “If you think I’m going to just let the bitch leave-” 

            He hadn’t really thought before he moved, but the next thing he knew he had the other man’s right arm twisted up behind his back so he couldn’t return the punch Duo had thrown.  “I hate guys like you,” he snarled.  “Just think you own the whole damn world because you said so…  she’s her own woman, and seeing as she’s the one carrying the kid for nine months, its hers to decide how to raise.” 

            “You’re starting something bigger than you know,” he returned, calm again. 

            Duo couldn’t help it; he laughed.  “I’ve gotten into much bigger, believe me.”  He shoved the guy away but stood nonchalantly, waiting for him to make the first move. 

            “You’re going to regret this.”  His eyes were ice… but there was the whole bite not backing up the bark thing that made it fake; Heero would have his face in the pavement by now, knee in his back so he couldn’t be thrown off. 

            “You want me to kill you right here, then?” 

            Cal snorted.  “This is neutral ground.” 

            Duo grinned back at him.  “So I’ll knock your ass out and carry you a few blocks first.”  He could feel the people in the church watching him.  “You came here looking to fight me because your girl realized you’re a dickhead… and I’m sorry, but I’ll bend a few rules before I’ll let harm come to a friend; she’ll be safe here and elsewhere, and if you have to die to get that through your head than so be it, buddy.” 

            “You only injure my people, generally speaking.” 

            “That’s because this isn’t a war anymore; it’s not my business to be killing, these days.”  He tilted his head at him.  “I would appreciate it if you just promised to leave her alone, though.  Word is she might tell Luc everything you don’t want him to know if you make a fuss.” 

            He had him starting to get edgy now… people either got edgy or completely blew him off, when tensions were coming down.  He had a sort of nonchalance inherited from his previous life that made him king of any fight in this city, and he could feel – What had Hilde called it?  His battle persona? – his thoughts clicking together like when he booted up Deathscythe.  

            He really _wouldn’t_ care if he killed this asshole.  It would likely start a gang war, but he could have that done with in under a week… in time for the baby shower.  Karina had already told him everything he might be able to use if he needed to raid the Slingers den, and quite frankly it sounded like something he could probably pull off single-handed.  Wouldn’t even have to kill too many of his gang; kind that most of them were, they’d slip away looking for a better leader… or cling to Chaos. 

            And he could bring them to Luc.  If Luc didn’t want them, he could push them off, and they wouldn’t drift for too long before they found a new place of some sort or other. 

            The trick was making them believe Sin’s staying with Cal had been a trick to bring them down all along, and not the series of fuck-ups it actually was.  And with the women in this city, that wouldn’t be hard.  The real issue… 

            She really needed to find a way to tell it to Luc.  Tell him _all_ of it… without him breaking somehow. 

            “Amazingly enough, I _do_ care about my own damn kid!” 

            “That’s nice, seeing as it’s not yours.”  He smirked at the man’s shocked look.  “Pretty little thing like that tells you she’s pregnant when she’s over _four months_ along and you don’t suspect a thing?  That’s charming, really, but you’re not her only sweetheart.  It’s his, in all reality, but she wasn’t sure which one of you could keep them safer for longer, until she realized that she didn’t give a damn, because you’re a prick.” 

            He’d gone and started it…  they’d see how it played out. 

            “You are, you know.” 

            He jumped at that… and smiled instead of wanting to scream at himself for being so distracted.  _How fucking long’s he been standing there?!_  

            Cal’s eyes narrowed.  “Lucas.” 

            “That’s what my mother called me,” the leader of the Devils muttered.  “Not you.” 

            “Get going, Cal,” Duo went on, beginning to walk towards the guy.  “Before I make good on my word.” 

            If Cal believed it, then that would handle the rest of the Slingers.  If Luc understood, he would lie for the girl he was trying to talk into marrying him, to keep the rest of the crew from tearing her apart. 

            If. 

            Cal scowled… and ran.  Duo waited until he was sure he was out of earshot, and, without looking at his leader, asked, “Are you mad I kept her secret for her?” 

            There was a long silence.  “You know, I knew she was pregnant after the first month; that’s why I was trying to keep her off the streets, which is why she was so pissed at me when we met you.” 

            Duo snapped around to stare at him.  “You knew?” 

            Luc snorted.  “Combination of a leaky condom and having the girls check for anything in the trash cans that they know they didn’t leave?  Shit, Chaos, she was over two months along when you came to this town.” 

            He wanted to laugh in relief… but the issue was that it wasn’t over yet. 

            “But she doesn’t know, does she?” 

            Duo sighed.  “She was scared out of her mind.  I think she only told me because she was in the middle of a meltdown when I found her.  At first, I thought she’d figure out when to say what on her own, then she popped up two weeks later saying she’d decided to keep it… shit, it hadn’t even occurred to me that she’d be thinking about abortion.”  He waved a hand at his friend’s incredulous look.  “I’m innocent or something, leave me alone.” 

            Luc sighed.  “She eased up, once December hit, calmed down…  I thought you might have given her the money for it, at first.”  He looked sideways at the ex-pilot.  “It wouldn’t have been the first time she had it done.” 

            Duo just stared at him for a while.  He knew he had always liked Luc, right from the moment he met him, because when he committed he _committed_ , but… _damn_. 

            He sat down on the bench outside the church.  “You knew about Cal the whole damn time?” 

            Luc snorted, sitting as well.  “Not _Cal_ , but I knew there was another guy.”  He eyed Duo suspiciously.  “Only one, right?” 

            Duo almost choked on that.  He _seriously_ …?  “Just Cal,” he squeaked out.  Shaking himself, he demanded, “But wait, if you knew-” 

            “Think of it like a competition,” the blonde suggested.  “She was going back and forth; and with you, she kept going back and forth…”  He grinned.  “But you’re on my side, no?”  He started to chuckle, and motioned back at the courtyard area in front of the church.  “You brought the whole damn game to a close, with me in first… and I’m going to be a father, too.” 

            His eyes were shining in a kid in front of a Christmas tree sort of way, and Duo hated himself for it, but he had to say, “But we don’t really know-” 

            Luc shook his head.  “No, Chaos…  It’s mine.  We got the ultrasound today, actually, _she’s_ mine,” he corrected himself.  “In all likelihood it’s true all the way… and either way, it’s true in the end anyhow.” 

            Duo almost wanted to cry for a moment, and ducked his head down between his legs… and started chuckling.  “Shit, dude, you’ll adopt me, right?” 

            Luc laughed too, standing.  “You’re crew, aren’t you?”  He waved at Amos, who came running down the stairs.  “You can do that job when you bring the boy back, we’ve killed a lot of time already.” 

            “Just… a minute…”  He wasn’t entirely confident he could bring his head back up without hint of water just yet. 

            “Oh really?” 

            “Shut up…” 

            “What’s going on?” asked Amos worriedly. 

            “Me being stupid,” Duo told him easily.  “Just gimmie a sec…” 

            “Not really,” Luc noted.  “Cats don’t come when they’re called, you have to play it right before they’ll let you keep them.” 

            He sat up to stare disbelievingly at Luc, that he had just _said_ that.  It was true, and he understood the sentiment, but people didn’t actually _say_ things like that! 

            “Cats?”  Amos asked blankly. 

            Luc kinda sniggered and motioned at Duo.  “Still a little wet, Kay.” 

            He immediately ducked his head back down between his knees again. 

            “You’re crying?” Amos asked, sounding even more worried. 

            “I am _not_.” 

            “Nothing to be ashamed of,” Luc soothed.  “It’s kinda sweet…  makes me feel all proud.” 

            “What’s going on?” 

            “Damnit, you make Solo look shallow,” he grumbled… and that was really it.  It was Solo fuckin’ reborn…  with blue eyes.  Just… too much. 

            “Mm… whatever.  Come on, let’s go.” 

            “ _You_ get to tell Karina,” he decided, wiping at his eyes and walking ahead of them. 

            “Karina?”  He sounded like he was almost tasting the name, trying it out…  “I like that.” 

            He turned back to stare at the guy again before remembering his condition from Amos’ astounded look and spinning back around to take the lead again.  “Come on, kiddo,” he called to the boy.  “Before they decide they’re tired of waiting and we have to wait another three days to wash.” 

            He still hadn’t known her _name_?  All that… and he hadn’t even known her name. 

            _…But he doesn’t know mine, either…_  

            And he knew that he’d never ask for it. 

-

***

-

**Ankara, Turkey**

            Heero considered the Ankara train station… which was also a mall, apparently.  It was an open air one, and the breeze coming through actually felt really nice… if not terribly good-smelling.  He knew that Wufei had gotten off here, but outside of that…  He was hoping for some “crime scene, police line, do not cross” tape.  As none was in evidence…  Well, maybe it was time to find good sweater, since he was fairly sure he’d be heading further north. 

            “Dude, he was seriously all ‘Waaaa-ee!’” 

            “Seriously?” 

            A third voice sniggered.  “Yeah, only without the sound effects.” 

            The first laughed too.  “It was totally awesome, though.  He kicked their _asses_.” 

            Heero turned to look at the group of guys talking, over at a table; the food court was right next to the train area.  They looked to be about his age… maybe a little younger.  That gave him an in that a few months ago he wouldn’t have considered… but he couldn’t afford to not talk to them if they had information he could use.  He’d pushed his luck already with hacking into the train station database today, he really didn’t want to touch the police records if he could help it… especially since he had yet to see them in uniform, and wasn’t sure if it would even _be_ in police records. 

            “What did he have?” 

            “Dude, he didn’t have a knife or _anything_ , it was all that crazy Chinese kung fu shit.” 

            “Huh?” Heero made himself ask curiously, pushing his hair out of his eyes and blinking over at them. 

            “This tiny little Chinese guy beat the shit out of this gang or something that tried to jump him,” the storyteller explained enthusiastically. 

            “Really?”  He tried to make his eyes a little bigger, and walked closer.  “How many of them were there?” 

            “ _Six_ ,” the third guy returned, grinning at him and motioning at an empty spot at the table.  “It was beyond cool, and then when the cops came, I swear, he, like, _flew_.” 

            “He can run that fast, huh?” asked the second in amusement, sipping at a drink as Heero sat. 

            “No, he, like, leaped _over_ a few people then started climbing a _wall_ ,” the first explained. 

            Heero looked around.  “What wall?” 

            He pointed to a building not too far from them… which was made out of fairly pocked stucco. 

            “Okay, now you’re just making shit up,” the second protested.  “There isn’t a handhold anywhere there.” 

            “He frickin’ ricocheted up!” protested the first.  “Like a superball or something!” 

            Parkour _did_ have a tendency to look like you were defying gravity, moving like the laws of physics didn’t apply.  It was a useful skill, especially when you had to run; people generally didn’t like to follow you up a three-story building, and even if they did, you’d be gone by the time they got there. 

            “Uh huh…” 

            “No, he really did,” confirmed the third, pushing a half empty thing of fries at the ex-pilot.  “You look like you’re just passing through.” 

            “I came in a couple hours ago,” he lied easily.  “Staying with my uncle for a bit.  He’s still at work, though.”  The fries made him realize he was hungry… but that could wait.  “They didn’t catch him?” 

            “Mm, at least not yet, my mom’s been watching the news,” the first noted.  “And all the guys he beat up bolted when they heard the sirens.”  He grinned at his friends.  “I bet he had something really sweet in his bag.” 

            “No drugs,” the third pointed out.  “Not if he was taking them, anyhow, he had too much energy, too sharp.  Maybe he’s a delivery boy, though…”  He considered.  “He didn’t use his right arm at all though, kept it close to his chest.  I think he might have been hurt.” 

            If there had been any doubt in his mind that he was on the right trail, that comment erased it. 

            “Maybe he pissed off some mob boss or something?” the second speculated.  “I mean, he was coming in from _Beirut_.” 

            “Could be,” the third admitted before turning to Heero and announcing, “I’m Ali, and this is Amir and Joss.”  He motioned to the first and second guys respectively. 

            “Odin,” Heero introduced himself happily.  He had thought about it for a while, and after dying his hair blonde in the hostel sink earlier, had decided to use the name, at least for a while.  He looked more like his old mentor after the color change than he’d expected… which made him wonder again if they had actually been related or it was conjecture and imagination.  He shifted his bag a little on his shoulder; he’d left his duffel back at the hostel, but had brought his laptop and a change of clothes, and his fold-up cane for a couple of scenarios gone wrong; he could always say he rented a locker for his main bag, or that he’d already dropped off his stuff at his uncle’s before coming back to buy a less beat up pair of jeans or something.  “I’m going to get something to eat… are you guys going to be here much longer?” 

            “Just killing time,” Joss reassured him.  “I’ll watch your bag, if you want; you’re limping pretty bad.” 

            Heero grimaced and let the bag slide off his shoulder and onto the bench.  “I was in a car accident last year,” he told them.  Often enough it was better to sate people’s curiosity than to leave it hanging to figure out; Duo had taught him that.  If you gave them a plausible story, they usually stopped thinking about the oddness of a situation, and you were no longer suspicious.  “I’ve actually only been seriously walking for a month or so now.”  He didn’t think they would try to walk off with his stuff or even rifle through it; they were well-dressed upper middle class teenagers, and he looked a bit shabby.  The story of his uncle also suggested that his parents had farmed him out for a while to try to handle the bills without worrying about him; it was becoming more and more common, right now.  Ankara was doing well enough, but most places weren’t.  “I’ll be right back.” 

            They all made noises of acknowledgement and went back to talking about something or other; Ali pulled the top of his backpack closer so the top of the zipper was against his leg and he could keep people away from it without really paying much attention. 

            Heero had no intention of staying longer than it took him to eat and maybe buy some spare clothes, but the anonymity of the other teenagers was nice… and it gave him a little more time to polish his social skills.  He wasn’t entirely sure exactly how he was going to go on from here just yet, but either way, his stomach was growling and his leg aching… so this was alright for now. 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium**

            Relena blinked at Jake, confused for a moment.  When she’d heard a knock at her door, she had figured it was Dorothy.  She was still fully dressed, it wasn’t embarrassing or anything, just… 

            “Well…  Can I come in?” 

            “Oh, yeah, sure…”  She stepped aside so he could enter.  “I just thought…” 

            “I was running papers up to your brother, and to generally give him hell for not being social anymore,” he noted as he sat down on her couch, starting to sort the contents of the folder he’d brought into different piles.  “I figured it’d just be less hassle for everyone this way.”  He looked up at her, back down at the piles he was spreading about, and back up at her again.  “I mean, if it’s an issue, we can head back to your office, I just thought-” 

            “It’s fine,” she reassured him.  “I just wasn’t expecting you, and I don’t usually work out of my suite.”  She offered him a shy smile as she came to sit next to him.  “It just seems… a little pretentious.” 

            He laughed.  “Point.”  He shook his head a little.  “I didn’t really think of that…  Everyone always talks about you and Zechs in terms of being brother and sister, so it’s hard to remember you were raised different.”  His grin was almost boyish.  “No offense, but his nose is a lot higher in the air than he realizes.  I like the guy well enough, but even back in basic he had this way of acting like he was just better than everyone, even though he thought he was being humble.”  He rolled his eyes.  “Nobility and all that.” 

            “You’ve known him so long?” she asked curiously.  For some reason, beyond Noin, she hadn’t really thought her brother had made friends back in his Academy days. 

            “I had…”  He ran his tongue over his teeth.  “I had some authority issues when I got into the Specials training.” 

            That sounded interesting. 

            He chuckled a little sheepishly.  “We didn’t get along so hot at first, but after a while Lu calmed us down.  I worked recon for them both for a while before I started to specialize more, and we used to hang out.”  He snickered a little.  “Our own little military middle school cliché, if you will; there were a few other people too, but…”  He grimaced.  “Wars aren’t pretty things.  We actually hadn’t talked in a couple years when he joined White Fang and we met up again, and Lu’s not around to make us all have lunch together and shit, so it’s kinda just… there.” 

            “‘Lu’…”  Relena sighed.  “She always just had everyone call her Noin, when she stayed with me.” 

            “Yeah…  She tried yelling at me for it for a while before she realized that I didn’t mean disrespect by it.  Well, that and she realized I wasn’t going to stop.”  He considered.  “I called her Noin when we were on missions, and that was really the whole point anyhow, I guess, so yeah.”  He shook his head.  “Awesome woman….  Damn good shot too… made sure we all remembered we were human and not just soldiers, back in school.  I think that’s one of the reasons she made such a good teacher.”  His laugh was becoming infectious.  “Not that she could drill mobile suits into _me_ , mind you, but that’s a different story.” 

            “I just…  I hope she’s happy, wherever she is,” Relena confided.  “She got so confused, when it all came to a point…” 

            Jake sighed.  “Yeah…  We all make our own choices, but I heard she was having a hell of a time with hers.”  He smiled a warmly at her… but it was a little sad, too.  “I hope she’s alright…  I tried to find her for a while, but she knows the games I use to track, so she knows how to hide.”  The hacker sighed again and closed his eyes.  “At least, I hope that that’s why I can’t hunt her down.” 

            He opened his eyes again and tapped at the folder he’d set on the desk before starting to rifle through it again.  “You’re going to need colony grown food.  We can see what we can get out of China, but even if we do get anything, it won’t be near enough – they’re hit fair hard by _Libra_ too, just refusing aid, and it’s hard to see exactly what they’re managing over there.  Zechs never made any claims on the country, and they went totally agrarian in a semi-colony kind of way to cope.  The big cities are all empty; no one who stayed in them had any way to get food.” 

            “Are they releasing the design structures for the heat amplifiers?” she asked, looking over the different money numbers she could see. 

            Jake handed her an outline of all the costs.  “No.  And it looks like they’ve been sketching and calculating by hand instead of digitally, so don’t try to get sweet on me for that.” 

            “That would be what would really help, though,” she muttered, considering the prices.  It was reasonable enough.  It would get revised again and again before it got put through, but it was a good start.  “Just imagine turning miles and miles of fields into a greenhouse.  The Americas _need_ that heat right now; it’s turning into Russia down in the tropics.” 

            “Zechs has people on it, but they’re a bit overloaded trying to keep Europe and North Africa fed,” Jake informed her easily.  “Further south is technically China’s by treaty, but they’re happily being ignored by everybody, right now, and so long as they don’t complain, it’s going to stay that way.  Southern Africa is making a try for independence on everything but paper, and the Middle East and Southeastern States are the new fucking bread basket of Europe, as insane as that sounds.  If we try to squeeze them any harder, we might have to deal with a coup attempt before the Regime’s even lasted two years, and it would end in _everyone_ starving.” 

            “I’m not arguing that,” Relena insisted, because she might not have _all_ the details, but she knew the Romefeller malcontents had made that area into a hotbed she wasn’t ready to consider – he wasn’t wrong, saying that they needed to maintain the current balance.  “I just thing we should have opened a dialogue with China about the technology as soon as we realized it was more than a rumor.” 

            He tipped his head slightly as he considered that, and those cool blue eyes turned considering – more alert, more serious than she’d seen him yet.  “If you went and bothered your brother and his council the right way,” he began, tone thoughtful.  “Presented right.”  His stare turned pointed.  “You might be able to work up a proposal for sending out an ambassador or two.”  He nodded a little to himself, seeming to relax into the idea.  “Especially if it was you that went, with your history.” 

            Encouraging, but she didn’t think she deserved the mildly patronizing edge to his words.  “Why haven’t they jumped on this already, if it’s this easy?” she cut in instead.  She assumed there was a valid reason she was missing, but she hadn’t found it yet. 

            “Because everyone left them for dead, Princess,” he murmured solemnly, face softening as he watched her reaction. 

            _...Ah.  Pride._   She scowled; just because she understood didn’t make it alright.  “That’s not good enough,” she returned, quietly, but with steel. 

            That paternal air dropped, one edge of his mouth kicking up.  “No, it’s really not.”  He looked back to the handful of papers he still had in on hand, then shrugged dropping them somewhat carelessly on an ottoman before pacing back a few steps and crossing his arms, head tipped thoughtfully again.  “That said, we’ve only known about the heat amplifiers in China for a few months, and I doubt they’ve been working all too good until recently; the first couple generations of any new tech tends to suffer.” 

            She could work with that.  “So it’s prime time, now,” she declared, crossing her own arms, watching him. 

            He shrugged, staring off to one side, mind elsewhere.  “Truth tell, Europe _needs_ the damn things, if they’re viable.  Africa can largely be solved by a shift in vegetation; plants can live there alright, just not the kind that have been growing in the heat for millennia.  Issue with that is that people are fighting too much over the damn food to figure out how to _grow_ more, and then we send in a shipment of seeds and seedlings to one group and another burns it all out of spite.  The effort’s better spent on Europe, but-” 

            “But Europe’s full of rebels,” Relena finished for him, rolling her eyes.  “At least they’re not fighting the Agricultural Department.” 

            “For better or worse, they’re not stupid,” he agreed, making a gesture like he was tapping on something.  “The issue is trying to figure how to ration out what to where, because we need to stamp them out, not feed them.  They’d like to topple us before we have a chance to do any damn good just out of revenge.  Problem being, they’re melting away every time we think we have them pinned, and then we end up starting a riot because we’re not releasing the goods.” 

            “And meanwhile, the colonies are making a fortune.”  She rubbed at her eyes, suddenly just… so exhausted.  None of this was new but…  “This is just insane…” 

            He just grinned mercilessly at her.  “Let’s not forget that the goods reaching the refugee camps in north Africa are _coming_ from Europe half the time anyhow, so it gets spun around that we’re only taking care of our own in the first place.”  He motioned at all the papers he’d brought back to her.  “The reason nothing like this has gone through before is because it’s like dumping a cup of water on a dune and expecting a full crop.” 

            She considered that.  Everyone else had more or less hinted at the same, and it was a general thought, but…  “We need those amplifiers.” 

            Jake pursed his lips.  “Well, airfare is considerably easier to figure out than the cost of all this.”  He considered a moment longer, then pointed in the direction of Milliardo’s rooms.  “He’s in a freakout about trying to tax food out of the colonies right now, go tell him you want to talk China into doing it instead.” 

            She blinked at him, then frowned.  “Seriously?” 

            “Use the little sister wiles of how you’re here to help,” he suggesting, grinning again.  “I’ll wait here and come in if you’re not back in a few minutes to help out.” 

            “Help out?” she asked skeptically. 

            “You know, remind him that he’s a soldier, not a democrat, all that.  Fling a few insults if necessary, list off the people who should take you.” 

            “Okay…”  She stood and brushed at her clothes, looking for a mirror. 

            “You look fine, go.” 

            She rolled her eyes at him and headed for the door. 

            “Relena, one thing.” 

            She turned back to look at him.  “What?” 

            “We’re trying to feed _Europe_.” 

            She frowned, wanting to argue… but understanding his point.  “Got it.”  She considered.  “Five minutes.” 

            He snickered, blue eyes dancing.  “Got it.” 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**


	13. Chasing Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slow and steady wins the race. Or something. More often than you'd think, simply being stubborn enough to last through the hard or slow times is what spells success.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to be mentioning a fair amount of the Episode Zero manga in here from here on out, tying it into how it weaves into all weaving this. So… I’m sticking to the canon like glue but shifting perspectives on it somewhat. I’m probably going to do this all with everyone to a degree… well, not the Relena one, that one just makes no real sense. I’m playing hard for realism in general, which the show has this love of ignoring, but hey. Anyhow, if you’re confused about some of the things Heero mentions, I know there’s at least scripts of Episode Zer around the net, if not the full pictures… and if you’re feeling particularly lazy and are dying to know instead of inferring, contact me and I’ll lay it out.

_**-**_

_**Chasing Hope** _

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**May 17 th 197 – Wednesday – Brussels, Belgium**

            “You amaze me more and more every day,” Dorothy announced delightedly as she sauntered into Relena’s suite. 

            “I suppose that’s a good thing,” Relena noted, continuing to rifle through clothes.  “Are you packed?” 

            The other girl considered the clothing seemingly strewn about the whole bedroom.  “I am…”  She picked a dress up off the floor.  “This is nice.” 

            “No dresses,” Relena declared from the depths of the closet.  “No skirts; this isn’t a pleasure cruise.  We want to look calm, professional…” 

            Dorothy considered what she could see of the scattered wardrobe.  “No white?” 

            “Too clean,” Relena agreed. 

            “Black?” 

            “Too somber,” she argued.  “Too formal, too hands-off…  And too military.” 

            She had always thought black was professional, herself… but they _had_ made the new military uniform black. 

            _Does that mean I should change?_

            “Navy or beige, then,” Dorothy decided, picking some bits of finery up off the floor and moving to toss them on a chair. 

            “Or grey.”  She came out of the walk-in closet with three pairs of slacks in the colors mentioned over one arm and set them out on the bed.  She wore a high collared blouse that was a shade of blue close to her eyes, the little hooks and buttons going from her shoulder up the side of her neck still undone, and otherwise only had her underwear on.  “What do you think?” 

            “Beige,” Dorothy suggested, moving to latch up her collar.  “The contrast is nice.”  Hm, well, at least she’d already done her make-up and put in simple white gold earrings.  “What other color of blouses are you bringing?” 

            “Red, brown, yellow, a different shade of blue, and black, in different styles,” she motioned to the part of the bed where she’d apparently been organizing what was actually coming. 

            “You need something for getting dirty in too,” Dorothy reminded her, pushing Relena’s hair out of the way.  “And more than three pairs of slacks, incase this takes a while.  We can get our laundry done, but you don’t want to look like old news, either.” 

            She pulled her hair over the shoulder opposite to the one Dorothy was working on.  “So I should get a few more blouses too?” 

            “Something short sleeved,” Dorothy agreed as she finished working on the blouse.  “We don’t know how much warmer the amplifiers are making it, and it _is_ southern China; if the world was still as it should be, it would be hot and humid.” 

            Relena sighed, pulling her pants on.  “That sounds overly hopeful.” 

            “That would be why we’re going,” Dorothy reminded her, moving into the walk-in closet.  “Do you have your toiletries packed?” 

            “They’re all in a tote on the bathroom counter,” Relena told her, sitting down to put on her shoes.  “What should I bring for getting dirty?” 

            “Jeans and shirts you don’t care about too much but still look good.” 

            “I think jeans would remind them of my age,” she argued. 

            “Everyone wears jeans, Lena, just stick with sober colors with higher waistlines, no hip-huggers or embroidery and sparkles.” 

            She couldn’t help but grin a little at that.  “Grab my hiking boots too, while you’re in there.” 

            Dorothy offered up a theatrical sort of sigh.  “Yes, my Lady…” 

            The other girl sniggered.  “Come on, you’re not supposed to give it up…” 

            Dorothy snickered a little herself, before going back to the put upon voice.  “Of course, Miss Relena…” 

            Relena’s retort was cut off as someone knocked on the door.  “Come in!” she called.  Looking back toward the closet, she commented, “ _You_ could have knocked, you know.” 

            “I have this universal key, though…” 

            “Um… is this a bad time?” 

            Dorothy ducked out of the closet as Relena looked over to the man… who looked very embarrassed, probably due to the fact that he was standing in what looked like the ruins of a clothing tornado… oh, and that was a bra at his feet, wasn’t it? 

            The princess turned a bright pink, leaping over to snatch the thing up off the ground and throw it back into the closet… and into her friend’s face.  “Hey!” 

            “Oh my god,” she gasped, turning even brighter as the other girl pulled it off her neck and examined the delicate lace before tossing it over her shoulder.  “Um…”  She laughed weakly.  “I’m almost done…” 

            “She’s dressed and the plane leaves in twenty minutes, it’s fine,” Dorothy retorted, dropping the pile of things she’d selected on the bed.  “Relena, this is Colonel David Mitchell, your other bodyguard while we’re away.” 

            “Nice to meet you,” he greeted warmly, tipping his officer’s hat. 

            She frowned at him.  “Mitchell?”  Turning to Dorothy she asked, “The same Mitchell or-” 

            “Oh, yeah,” Dorothy added brightly to the guy.  “Relena’s all for the strike force idea, Jake was telling her you should be in charge of it.” 

            His face lightened somewhat, then immediately darkened a shade or two again.  “It’s not going to happen any time soon.” 

            She sighed.  “Everyone seems to be saying that.” 

            “I think if I was religious I might start praying for disaster just to stir it all up,” Dorothy muttered.  “Where’s your suitcase?” 

-

***

-

            “I think if I was religious I might start praying for disaster just to stir it all up.  Where’s your suitcase?”

            Relena stopped at that… it sounded like something she might have said during the war, wishing for fighting for no good reason… 

            “Oh, here it is…” 

            She smiled apologetically at the soldier and turned to help Dorothy load up the case, mentally checking off everything she needed, making sure it was there… but at the same time, she couldn’t help but think of the possibilities behind what the other girl had said.  Fighting _did_ open up opportunities… her brother’s take-over of the Earth-Sphere proved that, if the numerous other examples hadn’t.  Good or bad, it brought change…  And change _was_ what she wanted, what she needed… 

            If it was necessary, why was it such a big deal?  She had no confidence in her brother’s right to rule, her own right, but it _did_ need doing, the same way his own actions were likely what had kept the planet from getting worse than it was now, even though its current state was terrible… 

            This trip… this trip was a test to see if maybe she was any better than him, wasn’t it?  She had to do a better job, people _needed_ them to all be doing a better job… not half-assing like Dorothy was almost constantly doing, not staying aloof as he tried to keep it all from crashing over his head like Milliardo… not standing on the side gathering information and leaving the decisions to everyone else, like Jake.  No one had put all their eggs in one basket, it seemed like…

            Risk all, win all.  Lose all… 

            …and Milliardo would still put her in charge whether she’d earned the post or not. 

            _Well, that doesn’t sound as depressing as it feels._   Then she would still have ‘succeeded’, but she wouldn’t be any better than him.  She wouldn’t have won the respect of the people… maybe she could win it then, and the old failure would be dismissed as her brother’s work, but she would always feel dirty, the same as when she had been made Queen the last time, they really weren’t _her_ people…  She had brought them around, but… she was sick of standing on other people’s shoulders all the time.  Heero’s, Noin’s, however many politicians, Treize… 

            She was going to _earn_ it this time.  She’d build up her own throne brick by brick with her own two hands if she had to.  There was no room for failure; she _would_ make a deal with the Chinese.  This would be her landmark success… her first step down the path of proving her worth, not on family reputation and ideals but on hard, cold _facts_. 

            She went to grab her toiletry bag and tucked it into the space they had left in the case, then went to pick up her carryon off the ottoman as Dorothy zipped the thing up.  “I’m ready.” 

            Mitchell picked the bag up and started out of the room before she could grab it herself, and Dorothy moved in next to her to follow him out.  They headed right to the plane then, apparently Dorothy and Mitchell’s bags were already loaded… and that was it.  This was her first major move… 

            She just hoped it went well. 

-

***

-

**Undetermined**

            Heero idly played with the options on the virtual car…  It was a fairly pointless exercise, but surprisingly calming at the same time.  It was some high end brand that he was sure he’d never be able to afford, and he wouldn’t want to buy this one even if he could, it was too new, too flashy… but it was good to know what options were available for civilians.  He would get a car eventually… and it was probably a good idea to know what he could ask after for without having anyone get suspicious.  After all, if he managed to get pulled over, he also didn’t want anything illegal or even terribly attention-getting under the hood… he just wanted it to be a capable vehicle.  He had the reflexes to be perfectly capable of handling one of the extremely high speed motorcycles he’d seen the ads for – unlike all of the people buying them – but his leg was still an issue… and he’d like his body to be protected by more than air if he _were_ to crash, presuming his leg healed well enough that he could honestly trust himself on one. 

            Not that he was going to even seriously consider getting a car until he’d caught up with Wufei, not to mention until he had gotten that well-made fake ID, but it was good to be informed. 

            And honestly, the stats were better than he’d expected… but the idea of putting something else into an engine casing that said a high enough brand to be vaguely believable was tempting.  He was used to at least the original Wing’s performance, for all that he wouldn’t want _all_ of that in a car, it’d be pointless… 

            Then again, this was presuming no problems arose with the money factor.  He could only take bits and pieces now and again…  He had no memory of how much he and Odin had earned, because money didn’t really matter back then… and that was presuming his account hadn’t been suspended or drained by fees after Odin’s death and his own presumed one. 

            He could recall always wanting a Daewoo as his regular gun, and Odin had always said to pick something else…  He had assumed it was expensive and noticeable as a child, but when he had asked Dr. J’s people, they had only been too quick to hand one over.  Not that people who had wanted him to fly a _gundam_ would quibble about price on a handgun, but it was nondescript… and he had checked the market, it was in the average range.  And all the pieces Odin had suggested, at least on the current market, cost more. 

            So why had the assassin been so against it? 

            Heero took a bite out of his bagel.  It didn’t make sense… but in all reality, not much about Odin _did_.  He had always seemed sad for as long as he could remember, but he knew the man could be happy, he remembered his smile… but not ever actually _seeing_ it.  Odin had been happy once, and some part of him remembered it… but by the time permanent, reliable memory started, his father had been depressed.  He hadn’t known what to think when he’d announced that he was going to leave him on that colony after he did that last job…  He’d said to have a normal life, that he’d be okay alone… 

            Heero hadn’t ever wanted to be alone.  He didn’t want to stop working with his father, he had liked it; the smooth lines of the weapons, the cool logic behind the tactics they used…  A normal life had sounded dull, boring.  He’d seen the games the kids played in the schools, and he didn’t like them.  There was a _point_ to what Odin had him do…  He’d been planning on sneaking back on the shuttle after him once the man tried to leave, announce he’d made his decision and would live how he wanted to, not playing at some silly game in a school… 

            But it was Odin who stayed on L3-X18999. 

            Casting off the endless contemplation of his past, he reopened a window he’d minimized for a news site and considered it again.  The government wasn’t claiming the men who attacked Wufei… nor were they saying he was one of the gundam pilots.  So either they weren’t from Zechs, or they were the men who did his dirty work. 

            He wondered if, whoever they were, they were the same reason Quatre had disappeared.  Maybe they had jumped him discreetly in the middle of the night instead of this all-out attack, where it wouldn’t be enough to make the news…  Just like the fight where Chang was shot in the arm didn’t show up on the morning paper… at least not within five hundred miles of Jerusalem for the two and something weeks since he had told Dr. Srona it had happened.  So either his search range wasn’t wide enough, it was misreported, it had been covered up, or the reporters were just focusing on stories that might uplift hope. 

            Wufei had told Samuel he was trying to get to a safe house somewhere, but apparently it had been far enough that he was too worried about his wound to let its care wait.  The safe house, though… if he made it there, Heero wasn’t sure he’d be able to find him. 

            On the other hand, the existence of a safe house said he had support with the rebellion.  He took another bite of his lunch.  There had never been a question in his mind that Zechs needed to be unseated; he had just lost the means to do it himself.  He wasn’t sure if the rebels would still consider him useful, with his leg… but he was already off the good doctor’s charts for expectations of how well he might heal, and he had other skills outside of physical combat.  In any case, he could still pilot a mobile suit just fine… and he still had both Wing and Zero’s blueprints.  He was an engineer in his own right; not a creator, at least not beyond minor modifications, but he was educated and experienced in building and repair.  How else would he have been able to keep his machines afloat through the first part of the war? 

            The issue, however, was that he had no leads on Wufei to go off of now… which suggested letting his intuition lead him about until he discovered some clue or detail he’d missed before.  He disliked having to rely on something so intangible, but he’d already lost two days to trying to track more physical trails and finding nothing. 

            There were only so many places to go from here where Zechs wasn’t too strong or weak in power… he wasn’t terribly strong this far south, so their chances of safety were better, he and Quatre had reasoned when they were running before… but it also meant that there was nothing for the rebels to attack in Turkey.  They were limited enough that they couldn’t keep a safe house _safe_ too far out of their own anchor points… so that meant north, which really meant east, since the country was a peninsula and Zechs was strong over by Istanbul; it was only too easy to get cornered out on the water.  Wufei wouldn’t be stupid enough to take the chance that there might be an informant on the boat with him on the way over; he wouldn’t want to risk the same trouble he ran into when he got off the train.  Even while on the train, he would have taken precautions so that practically no one actually saw him, but chances were the only kind of ferry ticket he could afford would be the sort that offered no private space.  Planes provided a similar dilemma. 

            There was a safety too in places with many strangers, big cities… small town folk were only too quick to become suspicious, anymore.  The police had an even harder time protecting them, especially this far south, so people took matters into their own hands.  It was unlikely they would identify Wufei as a gundam pilot, but a teenager with a gunshot wound was very obviously trouble.  Not that it wasn’t trouble that city folk would also quickly shun, but they were more likely to not notice… and to keep to a “don’t ask, don’t tell” code. 

            He finished his bagel and brushed off his hands, picking up his trash.  He had already checked out his bunk at the hostel, but still had his duffel in one of their lockers for those checking in early or with last minute errands, like he had claimed.  He’d buy a bus ticket before he picked it up and go from the stop near there… and fan out looking for clues of the other man’s passage to the east. 

            If it turned out he was wrong, he wasn’t sure what he’d do… but he hadn’t entirely lost the trail yet. 

-

***

-

**May 18 th 197 – Thursday – Amsterdam, Netherlands – Devil’s Den**

            Sin stared at the ring in awe.  She wasn’t exactly surprised, though she hadn’t expected him to propose _today_ , while they were setting up the shower… but… 

            “How did you afford this?” she asked disbelievingly.  She’d secretly been admiring the thing from the shop window for _years_.  “How… how did you…?” 

            His smile was proud.  “I’ve been saving for a damn long while… and I kinda remembered you looking over there once, so I got Chaos to go past there with you last month, and Melissa said you were going on about the style on her mom’s amethyst last year, so we narrowed it down from there.” 

            She didn’t think she could smile any wider, but with how tight her face felt, she must have.  “It’s gorgeous, you’re amazing…” 

            “Yeah, well, thanks, but you’re starting to worry me a little, here…” 

            She giggled a little hysterically and more fell than dropped to her knees to be at the same level to kiss him, since he’d knelt.  “Of course I’ll marry you.” 

            “Careful,” he started worriedly, resting a hand on her shoulder to steady her.  “I would have stood up, you know.” 

            She giggled again and wrapped her arms about his neck, leaning over to kiss him.  “Shut up.” 

            He closed the distance between them by pulling her into an embrace as their lips met and held her tight, one hand resting by her hip and stroking her belly with his thumb… 

            It had been an affectionate gesture he’d always done at the bit of skin where her shirt and jeans didn’t quite meet, but really, it meant so much more now.  The security of it all felt so good… Chaos had been right, Luc _was_ the right choice, he was sweet and would make an excellent father to boot, but she’d been convinced Cal might come breaking down the door and break their whole world into pieces if she left him, that he would say everything she’d done, and she’d lose them both and be alone… 

            She really owed Chaos… she had never thought when that gangly, almost girlish boy came in on her and Luc arguing that he would become so important. 

            As if the thought had been an entrance cue, the demon asked, “Does it fit?” 

            Giggling more, she pulled away… to see that pretty much everyone was there, actually.  “Hey, butt out!” 

            Shov laughed.  “Come on, its our monthly drama, Chaos has just been stepping up to the plate every time, lately.” 

            “Come on, try it on!” Leah urged eagerly… she was holding a video camera. 

            “Oh, you are _not_!” 

            The other girl laughed evilly, making a “hurry up” gesture with her free hand. 

            “Since when do we have a video camera?” Sin demanded, though her foolish grin showed she wasn’t actually upset. 

            “We don’t, it’s the Father’s,” Chaos admitted.  “I’ll work on a figuring out a TV before I buy something I could borrow.” 

            “Come on, tell us if it fits or not already, before I lose the chain,” Nolan complained, holding the thing up for emphasis. 

            She stared.  It, too, was finely made.  “Oh, no, you guys, I can just put it on a thong until I have the baby if it doesn’t, you shouldn’t have-” 

            “The Sister insisted,” Melissa argued, tousling Nolan’s hair affectionately.  “She said she had another one she could use until after the baby.”  She grinned.  “Luc paid good money, can’t risk you losing it because we’re cheapskates, eh?” 

            “You guys…”  She was starting to tear up.  _Damn the hormones…_   Everyone was just doing everything… 

            “Come on!  Luc, make her quit stalling!” 

            Luc grinned and took the ring out of its case to try slipping it on her finger… and it actually went on. 

            “Shit, now I have to go back to the church…” 

            “Nolan!” Leah admonished.  “This for posterity, don’t cuss!” 

            Luc frowned, twisting it slightly, and Karina grimaced.  “No, it’s just a little too tight, bring it here…” 

            “Oh, good.”  Nolan started forward, covering a yawn. 

            “You say it like you don’t _always_ go to the church,” Carlos noted. 

            “Yeah,” the kid admitted as he dropped to his knees next to his leader and undid the clasp.  “But I was up all night doing my paper, so I’m _tired_ , and it’s _cold_.” 

            “I could have taken it back,” Chaos reminded him. 

            “Oh yeah, you just woke up, huh?”  The thirteen-year-old tried to take the ring back off her finger but Sin giggled again as Luc smacked at his hand and slowly worked the thing back off himself.  “Oh, fine,” he grumbled, fighting another yawn.  “All possessive, huh?” 

            “Very,” Luc agreed, snatching the chain from him.  “Git.” 

            Melissa sniggered, moving forward to pull her little brother to his feet.  “Come on, go nap, you’re dead on your feet.  Let Luc have his moment.” 

            “His two minute long moment,” Leah noted. 

            “Ooh, we’re counting?” Jamus asked, practically bouncing. 

            “And twenty-three seconds,” the girl returned smartly, blowing him a kiss. 

            “Dude, what are you _on_?”  Mik demanded. 

            “He got laid,” Laura supplied. 

            “Laur!” 

            “What?” 

            “Camera!” her friend protested, pointing back at the thing she was holding. 

            “So?” 

            “ _Laura_!” 

            “Now you have to stay together,” Chaos teased.  “For posterity’s sake.” 

            Jamus laughed as Leah rolled her eyes and focused back on Luc clasping the chain around his fiancée’s neck.  It was short enough that it sat just below the hollow between her clavicles and was easily visible… the same place Sister Isabel’s cross sat.  Sin fingered it for a moment and smiled at Luc before looking pointedly at the camera.  “You are _not_ filming the shower, I don’t want anybody remembering how many toilet paper squares around I am.”  She looked about for a second before deciding, “Okay, my knees hurt, I need help up.” 

            Luc automatically stood and reached down to help her.  “So… we should probably finish getting ready for the shower… unless you want to run down to the church?” 

            She smacked at his arm.  “I want to have a fiancé for more than an _hour_.” 

            “I’ll go get the streamers!” Chaos announced happily, dashing out of the room. 

            “Okay!” Jamus agreed, following him. 

            “He’s just as-” 

            “Don’t _even_ suggest it,” Leah snapped.  She turned off the camera and more or less stalked out of the room. 

            “Oh, as if,” Sin muttered, rolling her eyes. 

            Luc sniggered.  “Wow, Laur… just wow…” 

            “Since when were we putting up streamers?” Sin asked curiously. 

            “Since Melissa decided to buy them, I’d imagine,” Laura announced easily, moving for the door herself.  Most people had melted away already.  “I’m gonna go frost the cake.” 

            Luc kissed her forehead and moved to rip open the packaging on the paper napkins.  “You’ll put your real name on the certificate, right?” he asked.  He seemed genuinely curious.  “I mean, it’d be hard to explain to the little one…” 

            “Of course,” she agreed quickly.  “I mean, even now, it’s not…”  She bit her lip.  “It’s Karina Tenbrook.” 

            “Karina?” he repeated slowly, then considered.  “Kari?” 

            “Eh, Rina, generally.” 

            His smile was dazzling.  “Alright.” 

            And somehow… she felt even better. 

-

***

-

**Unknown**

            Wufei sighed, leaning against the window.  He felt like crap.  _Moving again…_   He really hadn’t stayed in one place for more than a couple weeks for the past year.  It was all for the best, he didn’t want to get found, couldn’t afford to be caught, but shit, would it hurt to keep a residence for more than a _month_?  He understood, really, he did, his movements were important, he was an emblem of hope or something… but why couldn’t he just work from behind the scenes? 

            Some idiot had tried to attack him with a pitchfork yesterday… a _pitchfork_.  The stupid rural community was just a bunch of hics, not that that was exactly a surprise.  It wasn’t like he had any idea who he was attacking, just some boy who might be causing trouble, there were enough reports about gang movements and anarchist groups to make a _nun_ paranoid, almost all of them about young men who thought they were going to be the cause of some grand revolution…  And he hadn’t even been able to make himself teach the guy a lesson – he had six skinny kids and a downright emaciated wife staring fearfully from over by the door who they needed him at his best to keep working… so he’d turned tail and run. 

            His pride was dying bit by bit… really, what would his father have said?  Meilan?  Well, it was probably his own fault for accidentally stumbling onto private property, so Meilan would have said the blow to his pride _was_ justice, just as his criminal status was justice for running instead of staying at the battle to the end… 

            He let out another sigh.  _I make so many mistakes these days it’s a wonder I’m not **dead**.  Politicians make their moves and everyone else is at their mercy…_   Why was it that every bad thing that happened to him was heavily political?  Meilan’s death because of Treize, the destruction of his colony because of his prideful clan that had been so great a source of trouble they had long been exiled to a decrepit colony until they were forgotten enough to be killed off…  The loss of his cause, again at the hands of Treize, as history and judgment became clouded… 

            Well, no.  He was a fool, and a coward, and had knowingly allowed the tide to turn against his comrades; his incompetence had nothing to do with Treize, however much he wanted it to. 

            The glass of the window was cool and soothing, even if it made him more painfully aware of his failures, more miserable to his very core.  This was justice, to make mistakes and have to live through the consequences, to try to repent and be ready to face failure again and again… but he would not back down this time.  He would do what was asked of him, try to make something of himself, change the world to repent and make up for his cowardice… he would make his ancestors proud. 

            The bus’s progress was slow, the countryside bleak and unforgiving… but he knew there was still hope to be had.  His body was screaming from the constant abuse he was putting it through, but it would go for a while longer, and then there would be time to truly rest… and make more preparations. 

            _Libra_ ’s crash, Zechs’ takeover…  They were his fault, and he would not seek forgiveness… but he _would_ make it right again. 

-

***

-

**Unknown – Treize’s hidden compound**

            _China…_   Treize pursed his lips.  If the girl was successful, then she would definitely leave her mark on the world, a good one… and it was unlikely that the Chinese government would turn down the opportunity for economic growth that the manufacturing of the amplifiers would offer.  It would be a mutually beneficial relationship… provided the things worked, anyway. 

            “Sir?” 

            Treize focused back on the man giving the report.  “How accurate will our information be?” 

            “Mitchell is with her, sir, as a bodyguard.” 

            “Excellent.”  Mitchell was hardly a spy, more a man of action, but he was far from stupid; he would be able to tell them everything important about the agreement that was reached.  “Does she seem loyal to her brother?” 

            “It’s difficult to say, Your Excellency… she seems to keep Catalonia as her only confident.” 

            Catalonia herself was a puzzle.  _Too bad, really._   “I suppose we’ll have to wait and see, then.”  Approaching them would be difficult, a single word from either woman could have his messenger shot for treason; he would have to tread carefully.  Anyone he had close enough to actually talk to her was far too valuable to lose.  He shook his head; there was nothing for it but to have patience.  “How is our luck with hunting down Chang, then?” 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**


	14. Paranoia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not paranoia if everyone's out to get you, and so long as you still have skeletons in your closet, paranoia is a healthy life choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any gun information is along the current line, maybe me playing a little ahead, but I really am not up for trying to recalculate gun technology for an unknown amount of time into the future… and the guns in the show seemed about as effective as the current ones anyhow. Not going to fiddle with the whole laser nonsense…. They seemed to be restricted to extremely large equipment in the show, and I’m going to take that to mean that they’re either impossible to make on a small scale, or that they’re highly illegal, and far too noticeable for Heero to want, at this point. I am not turning this into Star Wars… there will be no light sabers unless they’re attached to a mobile suit. 
> 
> The same rule applies to cars. If I get something wrong, sorry, it’s not my area of expertise… but I’m going to try to stay in the normal range of now, since it seems to be back there in the actual show, give or take. The same rule will apply to maps as well, because maps of the GW borders aren’t exactly available.
> 
> Also, let's face it: half the crap the boys pulled off in the show wouldn't have been possible with facial recognition technology. The show was made with 80's tech in mind, and after bending my mind in all sorts of directions trying to find ways around that idea (some of which are very fun), I've decided I just need to leave them at that level of facial recognition, because it gets absurdly complicated very fast. (i.e. I can come up with Heero having a way around it, but no one else reliably?)
> 
> For purposes of this story, at least, the kingdom of Sanc can be found on a modern European map as a small, detached piece of Russia off the Baltic Sea. It sits between Lithuania and Poland and actually has a significant piece of coastline, considering the territory size. It’s… startlingly perfect for what we know of the geography of Sanc.

**-**

_**Paranoia** _

_**-** _

_**-** _

_**-** _

_**-** _

**May 18 th 197 – Thursday – Brussels, Belgium**

            “I’m calling a manicurist.” 

            Milliardo started, then grinned over at his old comrade.  “You would hire someone to fuss over me?” 

            Jake snorted, glancing up briefly from his laptop to give the guy a look.  “If I was hiring someone to fuss, it’d be a masseuse; you’re under so much stress it’s the best thing I could do.  The manicurist would come in once a week to give you hell for biting your nails; maybe she’d actually break you of the habit.” 

            The prince grimaced; he’d been biting them again?  “How long until she gets there?” 

            “Subtract half an hour from the last answer I gave you.” 

            Milliardo rolled his eyes.  “You’re an ass.”  Jake was a friend, but there was a reason they didn’t spend _too_ much time together. 

            “You’re overprotective,” the colonel countered.  “They’d have to be blind and stupid to do anything to her, not to mention the fact that your little sister already has the support of the people behind her from what she did during the war.  They don’t think she’s all that powerful, but they like her, which means killing her would start a riot, and they’re not going to go borrowing trouble.” 

            “I don’t have any _power_ in China,” the other man muttered worriedly.  “They have no _reason_ to do what I want.” 

            “And Relena is _getting_ you that power,” Jake reminded him.  His tone was weary; this was far from the first time they had had this conversation. 

            Also not for the first time, Milliardo wondered why Jake had actually agreed to work up here with him.  He hadn’t had any compunctions against ignoring and avoiding him when it suited him over the past year. 

            “But she’s so… so _little_.”  That came out as more of a whine than it should have, but it wasn’t as if _Jake_ would repeat it… well, not to anyone who might think him weak for it. 

            “She’s something like two inches shorter than me, I think I might be offended.” 

            Milliardo snorted, throwing one leg over the arm of his chair.  “You’re trained.” 

            “So train her.” 

            He stared at him in shock.  “I won’t put her through that!” 

            “If I recall, Lu handled it just fine.” 

            “Noin wanted it more than anything.  Relena’s on a different path… a history of fighting would only hurt her future.” 

            “The future only holds _more_ fighting,” Jake argued, scowling… then shook his head.  “Whatever.  David will keep her safe, and Dorothy is sleeping in the same bed, likely with a gun under her pillow, so she’s doubly protected in a place where no one would wish her harm.  Everything will be fine.” 

            “That’s the kind of comment that ends in Yuy kidnapping her,” Milliardo snapped. 

            “Yet another example of someone who would wish her no harm,” Jake pointed out dryly. 

            “You’re really _not_ funny,” Milliardo returned.  “I don’t think he’d be above using Relena against me.” 

            “I think he would have done it already, if he was going to.”  He shifted in his chair.  “There wasn’t even a brush against the security on the files concerning her whereabouts, or on any of the false trails I laid about her… he isn’t concerned with her, it would seem… or if he is, he’s smart enough to not pry.”  Shrugging a little, he noted,  “Everything with Heero has been trying to catch a wisp of smoke, and the others are outright _gone_.  They were trained on how to go to ground when the shit hits the fan; I don’t think we’ll ever dig them back up unless they both get sloppy and we get lucky.” 

            “You’ve been trained on how to disappear too,” the prince argued.  “And I would hardly say we never got anything on _any_ of them.” 

            “My training is the only reason I’ve been able to get _any_ results,” Jake reminded him, scowling.  “Each of those guys has a completely different style, they work different.  I think Heero’s the only one with any kind of _true_ training on it, which is probably why he’s the one I’m similar enough to to track at all, and then it’s not hard for him to cut me off entirely, especially since he’s been off the charts for as long as he has now.  He could be _anywhere_.  I’m down to looking for any kind of criminal activity through the nets, and that’s like hunting down a specific fish’s shit in the whole damn ocean.” 

            He stood up and started to pace.  “Quatre’s either found a way to never go out in daylight, or he’s changed himself enough physically that he won’t be recognized; he was probably our best lead at first, but now there’s no point in even trying.  And we _never_ had anything on the other three.  The only way you’re ever seeing them again is if you offer amnesty, and then it’s iffy.”  Giving his leader a serious look, he decided, “You should be focusing on Po’s people instead of this wild goose chase.” 

            “And just wait for the demons to sneak up behind me with piano wire?” he snarled back. 

            “Shit, you can keep your own home safe,” Jake argued.  “You’re surrounded by soldiers, you’ve got damn high security, just localize and focus on what you _have_.”  He shook his head, giving him a disgusted look.  “Your ego’s always been too damn big, Zechs, but this will _really_ come crashing down on your head if you don’t cut your losses and hold the fuckin’ fort.  This is _not_ the time to play like it’s a one-man show, you’ve got an entire _planet_ depending on you.  Grow up.”  He rested his head in one hand, the anger melting away from him.  “Before the world finds a way to force it on you, huh?” 

            Milliardo felt the energy drain out of him, seeing that change in his old friend.  He knew what Jake was referring to… and he didn’t want to think of how the implications of being forced to ‘grow up’ might apply to himself.  Images of finding Relena dead flashed through his mind anyway… and he swallowed hard.  He had lost so much already… he wasn’t going to lose his little sister, no matter what.  “I’ll think about it…  I take it this means you want to be reassigned?” 

            Jake sat down again.  “Yeah, but I don’t know where yet.  Relena has some fun looking projects in mind, but I want to see how good she is at putting her words into practice before I commit to anything there.”  He shrugged a little.  “I’ve been in an office for a year… it might be nice to be out in the world again, whatever I’m doing.  Though at the same time, it might be nice to train some of the more promising people you’ve picked up…  I don’t know.” 

            “Alright… tell me once you figure it out.”  Jake liked to have some say in his assignments, and he was diversified enough that he could go almost anywhere… and when he decided he really wanted to do something, he was amazing at it.  He could be a little whimsical, but the results he brought in more than made up for his unorthodox treatment.  It wasn’t as though he wouldn’t follow orders he was given if he didn’t like the assignment… but yeah. 

            Trying to prod a more inane attitude from his friend, he asked, “So… how long until she gets there?” 

-

***

-

**May 19 th 197 – Friday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “Hey.” 

            Duo frowned at the voice, then shoved out from under the car he was working on to blink at Melissa.  “Hey.” 

            “I brought you some dinner,” she explained before he could ask, holding up a Styrofoam box so he could see it.  Setting it down on the floor, she squatted and tried to look under the vehicle itself… though really, if she wanted to look, she’d need to get on her back.  “What’s wrong with it?” 

            “Not moving?” he suggested wryly. 

            She snorted at that, then did something he didn’t expect; she crawled under the car and rolled over to look for herself. 

            “You’re going to get your uniform filthy,” he warned.  It was just a cute little black shirt and blue jeans, but they were good quality; nobody wanted a waitress who looked shabby.  “Not to mention your hair.” 

            “They wash,” she returned easily.  “Radiator’s not dripping…” She knocked it a few times with a knuckle.  “But that’s more to do with it not having anything in it.”  She considered.  “You checked the battery, already, I’m guessing.” 

            “It wasn’t any good, but a new one didn’t help,” he admitted, seeing her in a new light.  She was about as close to Luc as Shov was, so he knew her well enough, but at the same time they had never sought each other out. 

            She noticed his attention and smirked.  “I’ve seen your kind, soldier boy; you know a suit inside and out, but don’t know a thing about cars, do you?” 

            He grinned sheepishly.  “I need the reputation to keep getting other offers.” 

            She rolled her eyes, but he could tell she was amused.  “You’ve been working on stuff way too advanced, Kay, you’ve got to think simple.”  Pulling herself back out from under the machine, she went to pop the hood.  “Gimmie the keys… you’ve got fluids around, right?” 

            “Over by the window,” he agreed, coming back out himself and pulling the keys out of his pocket.  “What do you want with these?” 

            “Try starting him for me real quick, let’s hear how he sounds.” 

            He smirked a little at that, leaning into the sedan to try to start the engine.  It stuttered and whined at him, as it had before. 

            The woman who more or less headed the girls in Luc’s gang despite being one of the youngest considered the sound for a second.  “Sounds like something’s wrong with the ignition coil,” she decided. 

            “…Where did you learn all this?” 

            “My daddy taught me,” she informed him absentmindedly.  “You eat… I’m gonna go change.  I don’t want to stain my pants.” 

            He nodded and debated with himself for a second.  Melissa and Nolan were from Amsterdam, but they’d never been to see a father…  On some level he didn’t want to intrude, but it was something he didn’t know… and Melissa wasn’t the secretive type.  Luc said she and his little sister had been friends, growing up, and he’d always seen her as another sister… especially after his had died.  “Is he…?” 

            She blinked at him, then realized what he was asking and smiled.  “He found work in Berlin.”  About to wipe her hands on her pants, she stopped herself and grabbed one of the towels he had lying about.  “He sends back money whenever he gets a check.  We’re okay now, so mostly I just put it in an account incase we end up in trouble again, but he still sends almost everything he makes.” 

            He breathed out a sigh of relief.  “Oh, okay.” 

            She considered him a moment, tilting her head… in a really cute way, actually.  It wasn’t thought out, the way Karina did it, but there was just… it was just sweet, somehow.  After a moment, she asked, “Luc never told you?” 

            He grinned.  “Well, I wouldn’t have asked if I knew.” 

            She smiled slightly, staring a moment longer as if to make sure of something, before grinning broadly and practically bouncing past him.  “I’ll be back in just a minute.  Eat that before it gets cold, huh?” 

            “Alright,” he agreed easily, watching her go.  He followed her to the door and watched her bolt down the street, not exactly sure what it was about her that had his attention… it was just ‘Liss… 

            Shaking his head, he walked back over to the box to see what leftovers she’d skimmed out of the kitchen for him. 

-

***

-

**May 20 th 197 – Saturday – Undetermined**

            Heero ran a hand through his hair.  He was happy, on one level, as he’d finally managed to acquire an I.D. and gun…  but on the other hand, after three days of searching about, he hadn’t found a glimmer of his Chinese friend. 

            _Did I make a mistake?_ he worried.  _Was he really gutsy enough to try the ferry?_   He had assumed that Wufei wouldn’t go west because Zechs’ people controlled the west of Turkey… Istanbul was a stronghold, and when being chased it wasn’t exactly the smartest idea to run into your enemies’ waiting arms.  He hadn’t even changed the way he’d looked, right down to the ponytail… 

            Wufei had never fallen for any of the little plots the rest had, like the “leaked” information that had led to him killing Noventa and those other peace advocates… 

            …but that also led to him not _being around_ when he was _needed_ … 

            He blinked.  _Am I bitter about that?_  

            The idea that he ought to be upset with the other pilot for not staying until the end of that last battle had never occurred to him… he had failed himself, after all, even when he put absolutely everything on the line.  More and more it seemed like he and Quatre had done _everything_ when trying to destroy _Libra_ … Noin was too conflicted to move a muscle, not that her suit would have taken the abuse.  Trowa had helped with the hordes; he and Duo had done as Quatre commanded.  Duo had been acting like a damn ferry service… 

            He frowned.  _I can’t get upset with him for saving Hilde when I went to save Relena.  The information we got from Hilde is what made it so I could **get** Relena at all._   He knew better.  But somehow… he was still annoyed. 

            Moving to buy some pastries from a street vendor, he contemplated the emotion.  It was hardly logical… and he wasn’t actually upset by the other’s actions, per se… just annoyed.  Aggravated, maybe.  Duo had used up all his resources on the girl and then who knew what he’d been doing meandering around _Libra_ … and then _why_ had be gone back to _Peacemillion_? 

            …Had he ever seen Deathscythe come back out of Howard’s ship?  He froze as he walked away from the stand.  _Was he disabled?_   He hadn’t gotten a good look at the other gundam…  _Did he think that Deathscythe’s shields wouldn’t hold up against the atmosphere anymore, that he wouldn’t survive a drop?_   Freezing from lack of oxygen and dying in your sleep was better than burning to death… 

            Was Duo dead? 

            He sat down, trying to focus on his pasty.  It smelled good, but somehow, he didn’t quite want it anymore.  The idea that his old comrade might be dead… somehow, it had never actively occurred to him.  Sure, Quatre, after he disappeared… but the others?  They didn’t die; Trowa and he had proven that. 

            It was getting hard to breathe.  He hadn’t been close to them, really… but he had been looking forward to Duo’s smile, when they met again.  He would tease him about the leg… ask him if he’d reset and sewn it up himself.  He’d poke at him about the blonde hair, choke on his own tongue if he saw him socializing even as little as he’d been this past week, then laugh and suggest they find some frat party to crash, as if either of them were careless enough to actually get drunk or trust so many strangers that close to them… 

            _Will none of that ever happen?_  

            There was a sinking feeling in his chest.  This wasn’t like losing Odin… that had happened so fast, there hadn’t been time to think about it… then again, this wasn’t exactly happening right after the fact either.  Maybe he would have grieved Odin if he had had time to do more than eat and sleep…. The memory was too old, now.  He was too disconnected from the idea of his father; it had been a long time since he’d had someone trying to take care of him, and even then Odin had always focused on making him self-sufficient.  There was a twinge there, but he didn’t know what to really call it… 

            Maybe on some level, he still thought he might run into Odin again.  It didn’t make much sense… he had _watched_ the man die, he _knew_ he was gone… 

            He took a bite out of his pastry, not really tasting it.  He didn’t exactly understand how his head worked, didn’t know much of anything about psychology… but he was glad the feeling in his chest was easing up.  There was nothing he could do about Odin… and if Duo was dead, he’d handle it when he came across actual evidence.  Feeling like this wouldn’t get him anywhere… Relena was the only person that that seemed to work for.  _Well, maybe Une…_   That had more to do with her being incredibly unpredictable than anything, though. 

            Shifting so he could feel the gun tucked against his back, taking comfort in its presence, he took another bite, and another.  It would still make sense for Wufei to have come east, to head north through Russia instead of Bulgaria.  _I just need to keep looking._  

-

***

-

**China**

            “They’ve always been a secretive people, Relena, and they have no reason to trust your brother besides,” Dorothy noted as she flopped down on the bed.  Reaching down to untie her shoes without sitting up, she added, “You shouldn’t bother getting offended.” 

            Relena sighed, sitting down at the foot of the bed and taking off her own shoes.  “Offering a reward out of my pocket for continued better designs is a good idea for upping the ante on competition,” she argued.  “It will make this move faster, I don’t care about their dismissals of their men doing it just out of to good of their hearts.” 

            “They can’t have the boys running to work for _you_ ,” Dorothy reasoned.  “Can’t have you seeking them out independently.  No names, and they know better than to ask you to trust them on distributing rewards, so they’re going to suggest you’re trying to insult the scientists’ integrity.” 

            “I _know_ that,” the princess snapped.  “I just don’t like the idea of giving them money to encourage unspecified crap.  I want to know exactly where it’s going.” 

            “Of course.  On the other hand, they don’t want you poking your nose into their business.”  She’d finished getting her shoes off and stretched out happily, eyes closed.  “But you have the right to poke around because it’s your money, your custom, and that’s why this is going to take longer than anything ever should.” 

            “I can’t even meet the engineers!” 

            “Pardon me, but it’s not as if you even spoke the same language.” 

            “You can’t go through that much schooling without learning English.” 

            “Mm, so maybe they don’t want you to stumble on their boy genius who didn’t go to school, because you’ll want to pull him off the project because he isn’t qualified.” 

            Relena narrowed her eyes.  “You’re just being contrary.” 

            “That or creative, I’m not sure which.” 

            She couldn’t help but smile a little at that.  “I’m hungry.” 

            “No, you’re sleepy, we’re taking a nap,” Dorothy argued, grabbing a pillow and snuggling into it. 

            Relena sniggered at that.  “You can take a nap after we get food.” 

            “You just had to wait until I’d taken my shoes off, didn’t you?” 

            “I took mine off too, you know.” 

            “You’re wearing pretty things with a buckle.  I have boots.  It’s not the same.” 

            Shaking her head a little, she stood and called into the connecting room.  “Mitch?  Are you hungry?” 

            He blinked at her.  “I’ll take you to get food.” 

            “Good, you can go on duty early,” Dorothy decided, not moving. 

            Relena sighed.  It wasn’t like Mitch hadn’t already been awake, and he had slept since she and Dorothy had headed out for breakfast that early morning.  However, he would have to be awake until that time again tomorrow, so if he wanted to go back to sleep for a while, they had to make her friend get up.  Milliardo had made himself clear; she was not to be without a guard.  Dorothy, apparently, had gone through basic training and more after _Libra_ fell.  “You can go back to bed, she has to get back up if you’re tired,” she confided. 

            He grinned.  “It’s fine, I couldn’t go back to sleep now if I tried.  Just let me get my boots on.” 

            Relena turned back to Dorothy.  “Hear that?  He’s putting his boots _on_.” 

            “Good for him…  Bring me back something.” 

            She snorted.  “If I don’t get room service, neither do you.”  She had already been planning on bringing something back for her, but it was fun to pick at her. 

            And… she really shouldn’t be napping; it wasn’t fair to Mitchell.  Even if he wanted to go, he wasn’t supposed to be on duty to watch her yet, it was Dorothy’s job during the day. 

            She frowned, considering the anger rising in her chest.  She really didn’t know the man, but she hated slighting anyone.  She’d had and seen enough unfair treatment in her life… Dorothy had made a commitment; she ought to keep it.  It wasn’t right that Mitchell was letting her get away with this bullshit, that _she_ had been willing to let her get away with it just a moment ago.  Dorothy _never_ seemed to actually be doing her job, whatever it was. 

            “Stop being pissy…” 

            “Stop being a slacker,” she snapped back. 

            Dorothy pushed herself up on her elbows to blink at her.  “Excuse me?” 

            “You heard me; do your damn job instead of making Mitchell clean up after you.” 

            She frowned, sitting up all the way.  “Lena, it really isn’t that big of a deal.” 

            “And life isn’t ever fun and games,” she returned.  “You should know better, so get your butt out of bed and come have dinner with us, and let your comrade rest instead of being on duty whenever he’s awake.”  She was just staring at her…  “ _What_?” 

            “You really haven’t changed, have you?” 

            Relena narrowed her eyes.  “Get up now or so help me I will pull you up by your hair.  We’ll get plenty of sleep tonight.” 

            Dorothy sneered, but sat up and started putting her boots back on with more force than was necessary.  “It’s called jet lag, my Lady.” 

            “I didn’t sleep on the plane at all,” Relena snapped back.  “It’s called duty, Lieutenant Colonel.” 

            “I’m _going_ ,” she growled back, not looking at her. 

            “Good.”  Relena turned back towards Colonel Mitchell… and found him staring at her too.  Exasperated, she demanded, “ _What_?!”  _Everyone keeps **doing** that lately…_  

            He blinked as though startled out of a trance and shook his head.  “What are we getting to eat?” 

-

***

-

 **May 21 st 197 – Sunday** – **Kars, Turkey**

            I couldn’t help but feel pleased with myself; everything had cooled down, and it was all fine…  I could actually breathe again.  I hadn’t seen hide or hair of the people that had been chasing me for almost two days; I felt safe enough to venture into a convenience store for some bottles of water and soda before the sun went down. 

            Settling into an alley to people watch without being watched myself, I unscrewed the cap on a cola and took a drag.  This was nice…  It would be nicer if I could actually catch some of the sunlight before the sun went down, it’d be warmer than right here, but sunlight suggested being seen, and I’d risked enough for one day. 

            Even my arm was starting to feel better… the worst of the infection had passed, with only some angry redness still left, and a bit of the green that was still attached but not filled with fluid anymore… it would be gone in a couple days.  It wasn’t cooperating with me yet, but shit, I’d been shot; I wouldn’t have full function back for months, or maybe even a year.  I could push it, but I wasn’t sure it would heal right if I did.  I didn’t know a whole lot of anything about medicine, and the doctor had warned me… if I screwed up simple directions and fucked myself over, I just deserved to be laughed at. 

            Sipping at my drink again, I closed my eyes and relaxed a little more.  Everything would work out…  I’d make it to the safe house, then I’d make it back to base eventually, stop moving around so much and do more tactic-based work until I was physically fit again…  that Po woman might not even yell much about my whole ordeal so long as I got myself back to her on my own and more or less in one piece.  I just had to finish getting there, catch another bus, and I’d be back to work instead of running like a damn rabbit. 

            And if I’d actually lost my tail, then I could manage just that much faster… 

            A hand slapped over my mouth as a hard grip on the back of my pants yanked me into the darker shadows of the alley.  I started to fight back, but surprisingly he blocked my attempts with ease and wrapped a hand around my wound to keep control of me if I kept trying.  As much as I hated to admit it, that worked amazingly well.  I wasn’t stupid enough to call attention to myself by screaming, the cops wanted me more than some mugger… 

            Then I saw his face.  _Oh, shit._   It was the guy who’d been right on my ass in the train station in Beirut before I’d ducked and run for it.  I waited for him to make his move, working out contingency plans for exactly how to get away at the first advantage he let me have.  I couldn’t afford to get caught, there was too much I had to do.  I couldn’t afford to be imprisoned, to die- 

            He narrowed his eyes at me, scowling.  “Just how _stupid_ are you?” 

            “None of your concern,” I snapped back, ignoring the pain in my arm as I twisted and kicked at his groin; not something I normally cared to do, but squeezing your enemy’s arm hard enough to make an old wound start bleeding was hardly fair either. 

            He side-stepped my foot fluidly, not losing his grip on my arm, and slammed me against the wall.  I bit back a hiss of pain; I could feel the blood soaking through my sleeve.  “Maybe it shouldn’t be,” he retorted, still sounding highly irritated.  “But you have to be a fucking moron to just be out like this.  He sent out new people that you wouldn’t recognize.”  He kicked me hard in the shin.  “Stop fighting me, they’re closing in on us now, come _on_ …” 

            …That had to make sense somehow.  “What?” 

            He rolled his eyes and grabbed my good arm about the wrist before leaping up to a fire escape and literally pulling me after him.  Well, I helped a bit once I realized what he was doing, but it was still a move that required training… and he still had that same fluid grace as he’d shown so far.  “I said _move_ ,” he hissed, shoving me at the stairs. 

            I could hear more traffic than I had been seeing the last fifteen minutes or so down the street… more traffic than was warranted at this hour of day, when the cold of night was starting to really settle in.  The work shift had changed half an hour ago, this wasn’t it… 

            I stopped protesting and started up.  I had no real idea who the hell this guy was other than the fact that Po must have sent him, and I was humiliated to need the help, but I apparently _did_ , because I would have been a sitting duck there.  “Where?” I asked quietly. 

            “East,” he snapped, shoving at my back.  “Faster, Chang.” 

            I wanted to protest… but stopped ahead of myself and swallowed my pride.  He was right… and I bolted. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “Hey, Kay?” 

            Chaos grinned over at Shov; he’d been standing outside the Den, apparently waiting for him.  “Hey, what’s up?”  He was on his way out to work; he and Melissa had worked on the car for a while before coming home, but he still worked for Tate at night. 

            Luc’s best friend gestured for him to keep going and fell into step with him as he walked away from the building. “I… need to talk to you.” 

            “What about?” he asked, genuinely curious.  Shov was a good guy, but they weren’t exactly close.  They got along great, but he wouldn’t have ever thought the twenty-odd man would confide in him. 

            “Why…”  He frowned, seeming to fight with himself over something.  “Hilde, she…”  He flushed and suddenly demanded, “Why us?  Why is somebody like _you_ staying _here_?” 

            Duo froze.  “You know?” 

            Shov looked away.  “I’ve been following whatever I can catch about her since _Libra_.  You said the way you met her… she called you Duo.” 

            “…Does anyone else know?” 

            “I don’t think so,” he muttered, looking uncomfortable.  “I mean…  I know you’re a good guy… but…  Shit, it says something when I say I know something and Luc tells me to shut my mouth.  That he doesn’t want to know, because he trusts you to tell him if it’s important.” 

            God, Luc… was really amazing, some days.  “If you told anyone, I have to run,” he admitted quietly.  Shov didn’t have his same issue with lying.  “I love it here… but I’m not going to bring trouble to you guys.” 

            “I didn’t,” he muttered defensively.  “And it makes a lot of things make sense, just… why?” 

            Duo thought about that for a second, making sure he understood exactly what the ‘why’ question was, because he could’ve sworn he’d answered it before.  “I wanted to disappear,” he muttered.  “Forget… be some nobody again.  This place,” he gestured at the city around them, “it’s like where I grew up.  And then the church…”  He shook his head.  “I was safe in a crew when I was little; I knew if I picked the right one I’d be safe again.”  He licked his lips.  “Then I was actually _helpful_.  I could actually help support people…”  He knew his chuckle was bleak.  “Shit, Shov, you have no idea how lucky you are, that you’ve never been recruited.” 

            They walked along in silence for a while, each sorting out his own thoughts.  When they came within view of Tate’s building, Shov asked, “What about Hilde?” 

            Hilde…  Duo sighed.  “I don’t want to be who she used to see… and I don’t think she wants what I am now, so…” He shrugged.  “I guess that’s that.”  Running a hand over his face, he muttered, “I don’t think I could mix my old and new life without disaster anyhow, so it’s just as well.  …You’re not going to tell anybody?” 

            Shov shook his head.  “I only thought to say to Luc in the first place.  So long as you don’t go crazy on us… or pull Peacecraft down over us…” 

            “Of course not.” 

            “Yeah…”  He shrugged a bit and grinned.  “Have fun at work?” 

            “Haha… because manual labor is just _that_ entertaining.” 

            He sniggered a bit at that, starting to walk backwards.  “Make money?” 

            “I’d better, if I have to work this hard.” 

            He laughed.  “See you in the morning?” 

            “It had better be afternoon,” Duo tossed back, grinning at him.  “Get some sleep.” 

            “Thanks.”  He started to jog back toward the Den, and Duo focused back on the building he worked in.  That had been really easy, actually;  maybe everything would go that smooth from now on.  He smiled a little to himself… and went in to get started on payroll. 

**-**

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	15. Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a while, it doesn't matter how well you planned, or why you got behind. You just pick up the pieces, shore yourself up, and carry on.

**-**

_**Progress** _

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**May 22 nd 197 – Monday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “Father!” Melissa called happily as they ducked in the church door.  They knew it wasn’t any kind of service hour, so the kids would be more or less running wild, taking the solemn mood of the building with it.  True formalities were reserved for strangers. 

            “’Liss!  Kay!”  Casper squeaked excitedly, trotting up to them.  The blonde little boy was three or four years old.  Really, the majority of the church’s children were under five.  He blinked curiously at the pail Chaos was holding before pointing at it and tilting his head at the gang members. 

            “Kay’s here too?” Helen asked, coming down the hall.  “Fran, Fer, Kay and ‘Liss are here!”  She came through the back doorway and her eyes widened; unlike Casper, the six-year-old knew what came in those clear plastic tubs with red handles.  “Ice cream!” 

            “Ice cream?” demanded Marten, suddenly appearing from the back rooms as well, followed by Willem and Roosevelt.  From the Duplos still clutched in Roosevelt’s hand, it looked like they’d been building something with the blocks again… or more likely, Willem was trying to build something, and the other two were taking all the blocks he wanted, then smashing apart his work when he tried to take the pieces away.  Will was an unusually focused three-year-old, while Marten was of the normal sort… and Roosevelt, now shoving a red block in his mouth, was incredibly two. 

            “Don’t eat it all!” Cassandra shrieked from the next room.  “I want some!” 

            “Come _now_ ,” Adriaan suggested with all his kindergarten-level superiority, also coming into the main of the church.  “I don’t want to have to watch how much I eat!” 

            “I’m doing her hair!” Sophie yelled bossily.  She was not to be ordered around by a boy her own age… or a boy of any age, actually.  “I’m almost done, so just wait!” 

            “You can’t tell me what to do!” 

            “Sophie, hurry!” whined Cass. 

            “It won’t look pretty if I hurry,” the other fussed. 

            “Do it later!” 

            “I’m almost done!” 

            The church’s interior insulation seriously left something wanting… well, either that or the girls had started out playing school in one of the confessionals again before getting into each other’s hair.  It was hard to tell, with them up against the wall… which probably meant the church really _could_ use some more interior insulation.  It was warm enough, but noise carried amazingly well. 

            “I’ll save you some,” Fran returned amiably as she stepped gracefully into the room and smiled prettily at Melissa and Chaos.  At seven years old, Francisca Coppens tried very hard to be the elegant mother she had lost last year. 

            “What flavor?” asked Ferik excitedly, though he didn’t hurry toward them; he knew the rule that no one would get any bit of treat until everyone who wanted it was present.  Ferik had lived at the church since infancy, and had actually started asking Father Espen if he could take his name, or Sister Agtmael’s.  He was tired of getting teased at the elementary school for not having a last name, for all that the eight-year-old took it much better that Duo had at that age; he had yet to hear of Ferik starting a fight over it, at least, and his confidence didn’t seem too hurt. 

            Willem had been another “found” case instead of a child that was passed over by the state, so he also lacked a last name… but he wasn’t old enough to realize the significance of that yet.  Both of them were legitimized by the government, unlike how Duo had been…  They worked things differently on Earth than in the colonies, probably because children were supposed to be recorded at birth for better control of atmosphere levels.  If they had no records, they were presumed to be from Earth. 

            There was a process to gain the government’s recognition, but Father Maxwell had worked off of donations and a pension from the Vatican, not a government stipend like Father Espen.  He had also kept to a policy of not doing the paperwork until a child was adopted, to make them seem less transient from the name changes throughout their life when it came to getting a job once they were older.  In the case of Duo and how many homes he went through before getting sent back to the church each time, it was an especially good thing the Father hadn’t admitted the boy’s existence to the government; that would have looked bad, and marked him as a troublemaker to future employers.  Father Maxwell had intended to design him a clean record… though they had also started talking about him just taking the name Maxwell before everything had gone so wrong. 

            Chaos smiled at the boy.  Both him and Amos, with their brown hair and blue eyes, their confident attitudes, they reminded him so much of himself.  Ferik even kept a ponytail down to the middle of his back.  He had been much more of a little shit – these kids were practically angels – but he thought he might have straightened out to be like Amos, if the church had never been destroyed.  “This one is chocolate vanilla swirl, and we’ve got vanilla, strawberry, and rainbow sherbet outside, if you’ll help me carry one of them back to the kitchen,” he told the boy.  Winking, he added, “I was just worried I’d _really_ get mobbed if I brought in more than one at first.” 

            “ _Four_?” Helen asked, surprised and awed.  Ferik was walking out to grab the other containers. 

            “Well, there are a whole lot of you,” Melissa returned, crouching down to be at the little girl’s level and gently tapping her nose with one finger.  She held up the bags she was carrying that looked bulky.  “And we brought some smaller containers so we could save whatever you all don’t eat today for later without crowding the freezer too bad.” 

            “We could always put what’s left in the courtyard,” Amos suggested, coming in with two-year-old Coby on one hip.  The toddler looked extremely sleepy, but still happy to see his Uncle Kay, struggling to be put down so he could go wrap himself around the ex-gundam pilot’s leg.  Amos moved to take the two tubs Ferik had brought in so the younger boy could go get the last one, and then started leading them all back presumably to where the Father and Sister were feeding the baby, Abigal, because it was that time of the afternoon.  “It should keep for a while there, with the weather we’ve been having.” 

            Melissa handed her bags to Fran as Sophie and Cass spilled out of one of the two confessionals so she could pick up Coby before moving to follow Amos.  “I don’t know, the weather report says it might be warming up.  We’ll figure it out once we know how much we have leftover, and how much room is in the freezer.” 

            “That’s cute,” Chaos offered to the newly present little girls, indicating Cassandra’s hair, which was done in an utterly bizarre arrangement of twists and braids.  Sophie absolutely beamed.  Cass was still feeling it all with an unsure look on her face… and Kay imagined he would be doing much the same if Sophie had gotten her hands on _his_ hair. 

            “Up,” Roosevelt insisted, holding his arms up so it would be easier to grab him.  Since Duo still had a huge tub of ice cream in one hand, he knelt with his free arm spread and allowed the little boy to clamber onto him before standing again. 

            Moving after Amos again, he asked, “Are you busy this afternoon?  ‘Liss and I are off to another job after this, and you might learn something from it.”  It had been a week since she’d started helping him, and she wasn’t always along, just as much as her work hours and need for sleep would permit, but having her to help or show him things he wasn’t so familiar with just made the whole business more fun.  That, and between the two of them they were pretty good at teaching Amos everything they did.  They showed Nolan too, when he was interested, but Melissa’s little brother was more about in school and maybe becoming a teacher than in how things worked, the way Amos was. 

            They still weren’t getting enough jobs for it to really be a full-time thing that might be worth quitting Tate’s nightshift for, but they were getting popular amazingly fast.  Part of that was probably that he didn’t mind being paid in things like a pound or two of fruit grown in somebody’s greenhouse once it finished ripening, or a certain amount of bread out of a woman’s oven for a few weeks, or for someone to come spray the professional strength pesticide about the whole Den or the church.  Marien and Adelheid, who were usually the ones making meals, or at least planning them, had been delighted when he told them about the coming strawberries, and the addition of regular sweet rolls to their diet had the gang asking after how much the woman who made them would charge to keep making them, once her contract with Chaos was up.  The way this all was going, he’d probably end up switching roles with Daan or Val so that he was putting money to food and the other guy was helping with the bills. 

            Sister Isabel was feeding Abigal in the kitchen, as Chaos had suspected, and the church’s last child, three-year-old Klara, was stretched out on the floor, coloring.  The nun beamed at them when they came in, standing to hug the teenagers.  “You shouldn’t have!” she exclaimed, kissing each of the boys in their arms after she’d hugged them. 

            Melissa laughed, setting down Coby to go pull bowls and out of a cupboard.  “I haven’t done anything to help out in a while, come on.” 

            “They can’t eat that much,” the older woman noted, eying the tubs dubiously. 

            “It’s cheaper to buy in bulk,” Duo explained, shrugging.  “We’ll see how long it lasts.  It was pretty cheap, so if it keeps for a few weeks, we can probably keep you stocked with dessert more often.” 

            Klara tugged gently on his pant leg, staring up at him seriously.  He smiled and nodded, leaning down so she could whisper in his ear.  “Can I have pink?” 

            “Sure thing, princess,” he assured her, and was rewarded with a sweet little smile.  Klara was shy, he’d been coming regularly for over six weeks before she’d even whisper at him… and there was just something about her that made you _want_ to make her happy.  She was always scared she would be left out, or forgotten, especially by older men… it seemed like she had had an abusive or at least neglectful father, but he had never been able to bring himself to ask.  He just tried to show her that he could be nice and attentive, the same way Father Espen was… that not all grown up boys were scary.  He knew he was something of an adored uncle here, and he wanted to set an example of the _good_ things somebody could be, despite being in a bad situation.  He was _important_ here… he made a difference to each of these kids, to Karina, maybe to some other people in the Devils… 

            …He was starting to actually believe in his hope that being associated with someone wouldn’t bring trouble to them; he had half expected this to all blow up in his face a while ago, and then the point would have been proven, time for him to move on again…  But it hadn’t.  If he could prove that he wasn’t cursed, that he could keep everyone safe, build himself a new life… then maybe he could be forgiven for all the things he’d done so wrong before.  Penance, atonement, whatever they called it…  Or at least, if he really started to matter to somebody, anybody…  Maybe it was all worth it after all. 

            Maybe he could start talking to Father Espen about it, soon. 

            _Well, might as well bring it up…_   “Hey, I’m going to go find the Father, go ahead and dish it out before it starts melting.” 

-

***

-

**May 24 th 197 – Wednesday – China**

            Dorothy held out a hand with some ibuprofen in it, along with a bottle of water.  Relena took both gratefully.  “We should have brought a lawyer along too.” 

            “It would have weakened your stance,” the other woman noted, leaning over her shoulder to read the lines on the contract proposal that Relena had underlined in blue. 

            “I’m terrified that I don’t know what I’m getting into,” the princess grumbled.  “And it’s taking forever to figure out if these,” she motioned to phrases underlined in red, “are a result of sneaky wording or a non-native grasp of English.” 

            Dorothy pursed her lips.  “Alright, we should have brought a bodyguard who was fluent in Chinese.” 

            Mitchell made sure to snort loudly from the next room in response to that.  The connecting door was open, and he was fully dressed, but had lain back down for a brief nap before he relieved Dorothy.  He hadn’t been sleeping, really – he would have shut the door if their noise bothered him – but he said it was nice to rest his eyes and drift; that it gave him time to think. 

            Relena sighed again.  “This is going to take another three or four days minimum.” 

            “I think your brother will have a coronary if it takes another two,” her friend noted. 

            “We have good doctors, he won’t die,” she returned irritably.  “I can’t afford to screw this up.  I need to walk through it slowly and make sure I don’t miss anything… which means I need to dissect as much of this as I can before I sleep, but my brain’s getting fuzzy.” 

            “You _have_ been at this for over three hours.  Take a break and come back to it.  Better yet, take a nap and let me read through it and see what I can get suspicious about, and we’ll let Mitch run through it, and then you can dredge through it again and see if we sparked anything for you… then transfer the scribbles over to a new copy so it’s more organized and look at it again.  You can work up a list after you wake up tomorrow, and double-check that you have everything caught after that; there’s no point in meeting with everyone again until you’ve finished nitpicking, so you guys can revise it again from there in the afternoon or the day after.” 

            Relena pursed her lips and downed the water bottle, considering the idea.  When she was done she glared at the papers in front of her for another few seconds before rubbing her eyes and sighing.  “That sounds really nice… when I had to wade through this during the wars I had Pagan to help me, at least.” 

            Dorothy blinked.  “Pagan?  Your old chauffer guy?” 

            She snorted.  “Well I certainly didn’t have him constantly on hand because he was _cute_.” 

            “I just…”  Dorothy looked completely befuddled.  “Well, I mean, I know he was loyal, so I just figured-” 

            “He was Milliardo and my bodyguard before the kingdom fell.” Relena noted dryly.  “He was our tutor, too.  He taught my brother the basics, at least, of politics.” 

            “Wow…  What happened to him anyway?” 

            “He had a close call with a heart attack, so Milliardo let him retire with his pension, up in the colonies where it’s warm.”  She stood and started taking out all the pins holding her hair securely in its French knot.  “I’m going to lay down, then… if you guys end up talking about it, try to whisper, mm?”  She would have made the request that they go into Mitch’s room and close the door, but there was a separate entrance to this room, and that would be breaking the security measures the two of them had decided on once they settled into the rooms. 

            “Of course,” Mitchell returned, sitting up.  “Dorothy, come in here so I can read over your shoulder.  I’m not good at this kind of thing, but maybe I’ll catch something obvious while you look for little things.  We’ll shove the desk in here over against the wall next to the door.” 

            “Alright, just a moment,” Dorothy returned, pulling out a bobby pin Relena had missed and undoing the knot herself. 

            “I _can_ do my own hair, you know.” 

            “Yes, but I want you to feel special,” she returned glibly.  “You’ve had it really tight all day, I bet that’s part of your headache.”  She smirked as it came loose and the princess let out a happy little sigh, moving to rake her nails through the mess and massage her scalp. 

            “That feels lovely,” Relena muttered happily, closing her eyes and moving into it.  “You’re strange, but that feels _really_ nice…” 

            Her friend sniggered and shoved her in the direction of the bed.  “Go to sleep.” 

            “M’kay…” 

-

***

-

**Between Rostov-na-Donu and Kharkiv, Russia/Ukraine**

            Heero punched more or less mindlessly at the game he’d picked up, leaning against the window his seat was next to on a bus.  It was something to do… and it gave him something to look concentrated at when he was thinking.  He had to be around sixteen or seventeen, and seeing a teenager around his age playing some sort of handheld video game was something to just dismiss… right?  That was how people had acted when he’d seen them near other boys his age doing the same thing… which was where he’d gotten the idea. 

            He’d caught the scent of a scent of a trail on Wufei… and was really annoyed that a whole new set of searchers had been sent out, because he hadn’t seen most of their faces, and therefore couldn’t have their faces memorized so well as he had the last.  It was like starting from scratch… and he was even more wary because he didn’t think anyone but Zechs would have the kind of resources to pick handful after handful of randomly arranged individuals off whatever they were normally supposed to be doing for this covert hunt. 

            They were on a similar enough trail that he had caught wind that they were up to the same thing as him, though… and having fine hearing combined with the ability to move stealthily helped in terms of gathering information.  It was also due to eavesdropping that he knew Wufei had neatly disappeared again, and they were actually employing the same method as him of fanning out and sniffing out possibilities. 

            So naturally, he had decided to stick by one who seemed to be in charge of relaying information, and bugged his cell.  It was a useful gadget that Duo had introduced him to during the war, and he’d managed to keep a couple just because the tiny sticker chips fit easily in his wallet; even if he opened the battery compartment, the man would probably think it was a signal booster.  Duo was also the one who had shown him the finesse of knowing how to pick a pocket, plant the little rerouter, and put the phone back without the carrier being all the wiser. 

            Not that Heero had learned how to do any of that; he’d snuck into the man’s hostel room one night and slapped the sticker onto the underside of the battery while the phone was hooked up to the charger.  Still, he could admire how much more efficient Duo’s methodology was, especially in terms of how _long_ he’d had to stretch his leg before he could trust himself to move as quietly as he’d wanted to.  Not that it would have really mattered; he doubted a bomb going off would have woken the man up seeing as his own _snoring_ didn’t, but he hadn’t known that before fooling the lock. 

            Technology was useful; the headphones he had plugged into the game right now would easily hook up to the little digital recorder linked to the bug.  The only tricky part was staying close enough to the man that he didn’t lose the connection, without him realizing he was being followed.  He hadn’t called back to his higher-ups, yet, but, outside of the calls to his wife, he’d contacted other searchers to share notes a few times.  If push really came to shove and he had to drop away from him, Heero supposed he could try dropping the recorder in the man’s bag and follow the tracker he had in it to get it back later; the recorder was truly tiny, and the tracker didn’t have any kind of distance limit. 

            So basically, he got to ride in the passenger seat for a while, per se, which was never something he’d done, but it was… almost relaxing.  Not the same way letting Trowa drive had been nice, because he had trusted Trowa to handle the vehicle, but these people seemed competent to at least get close to Wufei.  It was nice to be using resources that weren’t his.  If they managed to catch him, he could help the other pilot escape; if they started getting close, he could jump ship and get there ahead of them.  So for now he could just focus on this somehow addictive game the clerk had suggested with a mutter of, “The classics are always good,” and- 

            “ _I’m sorry, Mario, but your princess is in another castle.”_  

            He stared at the screen in dismay.  _What?_  

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium**

            “You’re ingenious,” Jake agreed, grinning as he smacked the print button.  “To be perfectly honest, though, I would have expected it out of Dorothy, not you.” 

            “It’s like something out of those really bad spy movies,” David noted dryly.  “Except that I don’t think I can get away with calling my camera phone any kind of nifty gadget when I feel weird talking to you on the phone and not seeing your face.” 

            Jake snickered, sending out the thoroughly scribbled-on photos of the contract to everyone who ought to see it.  “Peacecraft is going to be breathing down my neck here in a few; Relena hasn’t deigned to contact him.” 

            “She’s asleep, and she needs it,” Dorothy announced mildly; from the protesting noise Mitchell was making, she was probably leaning up closer to him than he felt comfortable with in order to be heard.  “If he tries to insist we wake her back up, I’ll hang up the phone and claim it was the battery.” 

            “Just like those reports were misfiled and you couldn’t find them, huh?” 

            She made an amused sort of noise.  “Nobody actually _asked_ me about them.”  There was another sort of amused sigh.  “Oh, touchy, are we?” 

            “Personal space generally expands past _two inches_ ,” the other bodyguard muttered gruffly. 

            “Mm, if you weren’t leaning back so hard it’d be more like a centimeter…” 

            “Oh _Dorothy_ , give the man some space,” Jake protested. 

            “It wouldn’t be an issue if he wasn’t all freaked out,” she returned petulantly. 

            There was something lacking in Dorothy’s general logic…  That or she just liked fucking with people; in all likelihood, it was a mixture of the two.  “You can’t molest him with the princess in the same room,” he noted instead. 

            “Jacob!”

            “Well it’s not like I’m giving her _ideas_ , she already has them.” 

            “He has a point,” the woman noted almost sadly.  There was a soft noise.  “Don’t worry, you’re really not my type.” 

            Jake could guess what he’d heard, but he waited.  After a minute Mitchell muttered, “God, that woman is _weird_.” 

            Well, Dorothy had found something else to amuse herself with, at least; it wasn’t worth keeping to that particular topic unless his friend felt inclined to.  “So… taking the photos was a really good idea.” 

            “Yeah…”  David cleared his throat.  “She’s been working really hard on the negotiations and just attacking that paper…”  He chuckled.  “They were debating how long before Mr. Peacecraft had a heart attack.” 

            “Mm, baby bird’s gotta start trying to fly sometime.  How’s she doing?” 

            “I don’t know… she’s always frustrated with something, and just exhausted.  As for how _well_ she’s doing… I tried, I can’t make heads or tails out of that contract.” 

            “Frustrated about something in particular?” he asked curiously.  It would be good to know if the princess had any outstanding annoyances. 

            His friend laughed.  “The delegates, the entire Chinese race, Mr. Peacecraft, Dorothy, chopsticks, her eyes…”  He paused.  “Shit, Jake, you ever meet a woman who kisses you then tells you you’re not her type?” 

            “She’s not still in the room, is she?” 

            “ _No_.” 

            “Mm… yeah, I have no idea.” 

            “Gee, thanks.” 

            “Seriously, with Catalonia… there might be something there, or she might just be bored.” 

            “Great…  Yeah, she took my wallet and made a mention about the vending machines.” 

            “…You let her take your wallet?” 

            “Shit, she just _took_ it after she kissed me.” 

            “Huh.”  He _had_ stopped talking for a minute… but it was something to be noted that a _girl_ could stop David Mitchell in his tracks.  _Speaking of…_   “So… stay away from the jailbait.” 

            “Oh shit, yeah, huh?”  The two women didn’t really _look_ as young as they were, but even if seventeen was a legal adult, it was still young enough to be illegal for his twenty-six-year old friend. 

            _…If Junior was still alive, he’d be almost eighteen._   Somehow, thoughts of Relena always turned to his dead brother.  They were close enough in age… and the way Zechs acted about her made him just want to bite his tongue.  He gave the other man shit for how careful he was about Relena, but… 

            _What a luxury, to be able to be so protective of a younger sibling._   Not that Zechs was anything but fully aware of what a treasure it was, but some wounds never stop hurting, even long after they’ve healed.  “Hey, Dave, I’ve gotta go; Zechs is going to either be calling or actually in my office in a minute.” 

            “Alright… shit, I didn’t even remember that she was that young…  I’ll talk to you later.  They were thinking it’d take another four or five days, probably.” 

            “Alright, thanks.  Sketch me something tonight to keep busy, huh?” 

            “Sure.  Later.” 

            “Bye.”  He hung up the phone… and set his head in his hands.  He wasn’t going to cry, he hadn’t cried in years… but there were times that he still wanted to.  It didn’t matter what good you tried to do in the world, or whether or not somebody deserved to be taken away… dead was dead.  There was no redemption, no going back, nothing that could be done about it, you’d missed your window of opportunity… 

            He’d get himself sorted out in a minute or two, before Zechs actually checked his mail and really was trying to get information out of him.  He’d get back to work and the memories would fade again, and this would stop being important for another few weeks or months…

            But right now…  It was alright to be sad, right now. 

**-**

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**-**


	16. Making Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New players on the global scale come to light as Relena makes her way home successfully, and Heero and Duo both find themselves comparing their past to the present to find ways to move forward.

**-**

_**Making Choices** _

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**May 28 th 197 – Sunday** – **Kharkiv, Ukraine**

            _“Report?”_

            _“He’s become even more slippery, your Excellency,”_ the man admitted with a sigh. 

            Heero froze.  _No…_   It couldn’t be… 

            _“I know we were getting incredibly close and he was evading being caught by just a hair with Dumas’ men, but he must have realized how sloppy he was being, because he cleaned up his act.”_

            _“I see.  Has there been any indication as to why?”_

            No, there was no mistaking that voice.  _Treize is behind the hunt for Wufei?_   Heero fought the urge to smirk; Wufei had been obsessed with hunting down and fighting Treize all during the war, had been excited about the chance to fight him at _Libra_ …  _The mouse chases the cat?_   Not that the aristocrat could really be called a “mouse” but still, it was odd to see the chase go in the opposite direction.  That explained why this had been so covert of an operation, no flashing lights, and the hunters had run just as fast as the pilot when the cops had shown up back in Ankara. 

            _“Well, there seems to be someone else involved, sir.”_

            _Shit._   He slunk a little further away, starting to think fast.  He was actually catching a conversation with only a couple seconds of delay, but apparently that hadn’t been as good of an idea as he had thought.  Now he was going to have to fall back too far to keep his bug active.  _Not covert enough!_  

            _“Male, tall, strawberry blonde with a buzz cut.  My guess is that he’s in his early twenties.”_

            Heero blinked; he was blonde right now, but it didn’t have any red in it, and it was longish, in his face… and no one would _ever_ call him tall. 

            _“We still haven’t gotten a good look at him, but Sanders caught a glimpse of him right before we lost them in Kars, then I did, in Sokhumi.  He was buying food, but I couldn’t catch his face, and when Mihailov got the store’s security tapes…  Sir, I’m not sure if it’s coincidence or not, but he never looked in the direction of the cameras.”_

            _“Mm, perhaps Po did manage to spare someone to help him.  Keep at it; we need this connection.  It would be wise to consider his accomplice to be highly dangerous unless he is proven otherwise; I’m not losing any men to this, but as I said, we do need this connection.  Don’t lose them.”_

            _“Yes, sir.”_   There was silence on the line… and the recorder indicated that that was the end of its track. 

            Heero stared at it for a moment before hitting back to replay the conversation and watching the man wander back out into the populated street, waiting for the crowd to be thick enough and his mark distracted enough for it to be safe to follow.  He had a wider range on the bug than he utilized, but while on foot it was difficult to keep track of someone if you weren’t close, and moving by any other means would attract too much attention, here.  He had a pretty good idea of where he was headed though, so it ought to be fine. 

            He bit his lip.  _Treize is alive…_   Zechs had had him reported to the population as dead, before Lady Une’s execution.  _Does he not know, or was he trying to hide it for some reason?_   Une’s execution only made twice as much sense if the man knew; she would have been even more dangerous in her leader’s hands than alone, so that thought got him nowhere. 

            He started making his way after Treize’s man.  Wufei had been planning on killing Treize… what had happened?  The Chinese man had joined them on _Peacemillion_ because he thought the Zero system had told him Treize would be at _Libra_.  _So why is he running from him now?_   With Wufei, it would have made more sense for him to stand and wait for him to show his face.  Of course, he could have made the same mistake that Heero had, and not realize that it was Treize after him, even though he surely knew he had survived; it wasn’t as if any clear lines of communication were running, just action and reaction.  Actions certainly spoke louder than words, but in a screaming mass of profanities, it wasn’t as if anything could be made out. 

            Looking around some, Heero grinned, liking how well he blended in here.  At least half the reason the men had been changed out was because they were moving out of the Middle East, into the ex-Soviet Union, and the darker agents would have drawn too much attention.  Currently blonde and as blue-eyed as ever, Heero was actually tempted to cut his hair; hiding his eyes didn’t seem as good a determinant of blending in anymore.  The fair color had been popular enough further south, he had even neglected getting the dye close to his scalp to make the dye look older than it was, and there was enough racial mixing that no one would have thought him odd if they’d seen his eyes anyway… but now they seemed more like an asset he could take advantage of.  And he should probably dye his hair again, since the roots _were_ so obvious.  

            First though… He checked his watch, considering what time the call had gone out at.  He really wanted the phone number that Treize Khushrenada himself picked up. 

-

***

-

**May 29 th 197 – Monday – Brussels, Belgium**

            Relena smiled proudly down at her brother as she started down the stairs of the shuttle.  She had done it… and she had actually caught everything in the original contract that was worth catching before it had been sent home.  After arguing over it for another day, it was done with, and soon the amplifiers would begin arriving by piecemeal.  An expert would come with the first shipment to at least demonstrate their basic assembly and explain the best location for placement within any area they might be installed. 

            If she had been the type to do so, or had she truly known and trusted the blonde man below her as she might have had they grown up together, she might have run to him whooping with joy.  As it was, she did neither, and there was an image to maintain, so she smiled politely at the reporters instead, though she kept her silence and allowed Dorothy to give vague answers to their questions.  When she reached her brother she engaged him in a short hug and let the cameras flash; though, with him looking so proud of her as he was, she might have done it had they been alone, too.  He shook hands with Dorothy and Mitchell before turning to the crowd. 

            “I thank you for the welcome, but at the moment we will not be releasing any official information.  We will, however, be holding a press conference tomorrow at nine am concerning Miss Peacecraft’s work in China, and the details will be released then.  Thank-you.”  That said, he turned to lead the small party inside the base, and soldiers moved to discourage the press from following. 

            _Oh, good, I’ll have time to collect myself._   Having not been sure, she and Dorothy had sketched up notes of possible questions and answers on the way back, but to be perfectly frank, she was exhausted.  “Are we ready for that?” she asked him quietly.  “Or do we need to finalize anything?”  She was a little irritated that he had referred to her as Peacecraft instead of Darlian-Peacecraft, but that wasn’t an argument she felt like getting into with her brother when no matter who won she knew he would continue to use their birth name exclusively. 

            Milliardo shrugged.  “I’ve already outlined the important points and the details everyone should be curious about, and we have no reason to keep any information hidden.  This is good news.”  He smiled at her.  “Let them have fun with it.” 

            “But don’t give in to the ones who wanted to know what you had for breakfast over there,” Dorothy advised. 

            Relena rolled her eyes.  “I _did_ grow up as the daughter of a politician, thank-you.  I know the stupidity of the press.”  She turned to her brother.  “How much fun?”

            Milliardo chuckled.  “I’ll figure out the line we shouldn’t let them push past after dinner.” 

            She nodded at that, smiling.  Dinner sounded really good.

-

***

-

**Kursk, Russia**

            His name was Adam.  Beyond that, I had no idea. 

            Well, no, I could tell he was a superb fighter.  It had yet to come to any fighting, but the ease with which he handled a gun in the instances where he had apparently started to get worried gave that away.  That and now, as we listened to a woman send her kids out the door below us, the man’s balance on the supporting beams was superb.  Not that my own wasn’t perfect, but he made it look as though there was nothing odd about our current living situation at all, as if he regularly lived in random people’s attics. 

            …I really _hoped_ he didn’t.  The invasion of these poor people’s privacy was horrible, even though I was trying my best not to listen, and it made me anxious… this wasn’t _right_.  It was so extremely _wrong_ that it made my skin crawl.  But when I’d tried to tell Adam as much, he’d smirked and suggested it was the dust and insulation, or flea powder.  Or, actually, he didn’t see any flea powder about, and that I ought to look out for the creatures themselves. 

            _What a stupid scare tactic._   I wasn’t worried about fleas; well, not really, anyway… not much.  The diseases they carried worried me, but only in that it would be annoying to have to cure myself of them down the line.  _How can he be so calm about this?_   The poor woman thought she was _alone_ she’d probably start doing something she would die of embarrassment to know someone had heard her or something.  We had _no_ right to be here… 

            Adam seemed to be listening closely for something, so I reached out and smacked at his leg.  He blinked at me curiously, then rolled his eyes… as there was the sound of keys being picked up and high heels clicking… and the door opened and shut.  I could just barely make out the sound of her engaging the lock from outside.  _Oh._  

            My companion rolled his eyes and started for the exit into the rest of the house.  I grabbed at his coat.  “What are you _doing_?” I demanded in a hiss.  We had infiltrated the house a couple hours ago and climbed up in here while everyone had been sleeping, and now he was leaving?  We were both exhausted; we had been trying to get a lead on our pursuers all night. 

            He raised a brow at me, and held up our empty water bottles.  In an entirely normal voice, he said, “I’m thirsty.” 

            I… well, I felt like a complete idiot. 

            He shook his head a little, pulling back the panel and lithely dropping down into the pantry.  “We should be able to eat something the kids have been hoping would disappear in the back of the pantry, so long as we clean up after ourselves.  This family is well off enough that a couple bags of instant oatmeal or a can of stew at the back of the shelf should go unnoticed.  So long as it’s already been gotten into but there’s still plenty, and we don’t take more than a serving or two, it’ll be fine.” 

            “We’ve gotten far enough… can’t we buy something instead?” I asked.  If conditions weren’t so sparse as they were, I wouldn’t argue, but- 

            “They were onto us the last time I did that.  I would rather try to keep what we have incase we can’t draw on something like this.  Besides,” there was a click sound, and water started pouring into one of the plastic bottles, “If you came down here, you’d notice that I pick the rich neighborhoods.” 

            I considered that, and hopped down into the pantry myself, stepping out into a fairly nice kitchen… with Adam refilling our bottles from a fairly advertised purified water unit in the fridge.  I hadn’t seen one of those in over a year… 

            This was really nice, actually. 

            He smiled slightly, motioning over to the sink.  “There’s a spout that pours scalding water, too.”  I narrowed my eyes at him, and he actually laughed.  “I’ve stayed here before, yes.  They have a nice system of wireless internet through the house as well.” 

            I blinked at him.  “You don’t have a laptop.” 

            “I do, I just left it up there a couple weeks ago.”  I felt my stomach flop.  All of my worst fears…  He went on before I could give him a piece of my mind, however.  “I think of it as a safe house of sorts, and I’ve never stayed for more than a couple days at a time; maybe two weeks put together in the past year.  I try not to make a habit of it, but the house was such a find…”  He set the now full bottles on the counter and opened the fridge to pull out the orange juice.  “And the husband is one of the Zechs’ heads of development in this area.” 

            I couldn’t help my growing smirk at that.  That just had an ironic fit to it that I rather liked… but then I froze.  “I didn’t hear a husband this morning,” I whispered. 

            “Of course not,” Adam agreed easily, taking a glass out of the cupboard and shaking the jug.  “He’s on a business trip further south, hunting for some Chinese rebel.” 

            I stared at him for a second as he grinned around his drink, and felt myself start grinning as well.  This was some fairly thought out poetic justice.  When he offered me his glass of juice, I took it; it would be easier the fewer dishes we had to wash.  He brushed past me to go rummage through the pantry.  “The husband is working off of double pay, though,” he noted.  “Zechs doesn’t know you were the one who got shot in that skirmish a few months ago.  Treize is really the one who sent him out, but I don’t think his wife knows.” 

            I… really wasn’t sure what I thought of that.  In a way, it further justified what we were doing, right now, but… I really wasn’t sure what I thought about the fact that it _wasn’t_ Zechs’ men chasing me. 

            “Oatmeal?” 

            “Sure, I guess.” 

            He came back out of the pantry with a box of cereal as well, tossing me the packets.  “I left some boards upstairs to put across the beams for a bed, and there’s enough to make two small ones.  I hope you don’t move much in your sleep.  After we eat, we need to rest; I’m not sure we’ll be able to leave until late tonight.  It all depends on how tired the family is.  I would prefer they be asleep, or at least settled for the night.” 

            I nodded.  I certainly wouldn’t have trouble sleeping deep after yesterday, and I never moved when I slept deeply.  I wasn’t sure what I thought about Adam’s revelation, but… I was hungry enough to get two bowls out. 

-

***

-

**May 30 th 197 – Tuesday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            Really, the entire situation had been hilarious.  There was just something incredibly wrong about _me_ walking Karina down the aisle to meet Luc.  I mean, it’s not like anyone else was any better seeing as the Father had to be up front for the ceremonial part, but, really, how many flower girls past bursting did we have, with bits of homemade confetti instead?  Well, there were only five, but last I heard, there was supposed to be _one_ … and some sixteen, seventeen-year-old punk wasn’t supposed to be leading the _very_ pregnant bride to the altar. 

            Not that I was any kind of stickler for the rules, I mean, hell, I’d run around in a priest’s uniform for how many years, but the situation still made me nervous.  I think I’d crawl under the couch and die if Father Espen ever found one of the photos of me in the cloth.  I really hadn’t given a shit at the time, it had seemed ironically suitable, but now… I think that was my one hold now on not telling the man who I used to be. 

            Everyone was happy, though, Karina laughing from her spot on Luc’s lap while they attempted to move together so they both cut into the cake that Sister Isabel, Katrien, and Theresia had worked like crazy on.  Theresia had surprised us all by stepping up to the plate, since the fifteen-year-old had previously claimed no skill at cooking, but apparently she had always baked with her mother before they got separated, doing decorative frosting and everything, and the cake was beautiful. 

            Rina really didn’t look a thing like the girl I had met when I first came to Amsterdam… and it wasn’t because of the baby weight.  Her eyes weren’t so dark… she wasn’t scared, was what it really was.  I wasn’t sure how I had done it but… she really made me feel special, somehow.  And now that it seemed I was officially her older brother or something… I had no idea, actually, but it was pleasant all around.  More than ever I was glad I had come _here_ of all places, that I had refused to go away with Hilde again…  Hell, if I had arrived a few months later, or had Hilde been captured a few months before she had, I might have just left. 

            Melissa giggled as Rina squealed from having crumbly cake dropped down the front of her dress and retaliated by covering her hand with frosting and running it through her new husband’s hair.  The sweet little mechanic bumped one hip against mine playfully, and I grinned and bumped back.  I had been so lonely during the war…  But now it was outright impossible to be alone.  I liked it.  I snickered more as I saw something and pointed for ‘Liss; Cassandra and Casper had taken up residence at Luc and Karina’s feet and were happily catching up any of the sweets that were dropped.  The other little ones quickly realized what a good idea this was and swarmed…  I really didn’t pity the Father and Sister trying to put those youngsters to bed tonight. 

            …And Abby was chewing on my ponytail again.  This was the problem with carrying an eighteen-month-old on one hip.  I turned to give her a level look and she just babbled happily and continued gumming on it.  Scary looks didn’t work until they were at least Coby and Roosevelt’s age, and I honestly didn’t have the heart to do anything else. 

            ‘Liss was sniggering as she took her away from me.  “That’s cute, honey, but I don’t think Kay appreciates it.”  The baby looked confused for a moment, reaching out to touch ‘Liss’s face, then looking back to me uncertainly.  After a moment, she settled where the girl was holding her against her stomach, and reached for _her_ hair.  “Nuh uh,” Melissa laughed, leaning back and shaking out her loose curls.  “I want them to stay pretty, honey, can’t let you…”  Abby squealed, delighted at this new game, and reached again, for the same reaction and some bouncing that set her giggling. 

            _…I should try that next time._   “That’s one way to handle it,” I noted. 

            She continued grinning at the baby, making funny faces as she answered me.  “My mom always did it with Nolan when he was little bitty.  I did too, but I wasn’t really allowed to hold him much.” 

            “How much older are you?” I asked curiously. 

            “I was four when they brought him home from the hospital.  I don’t remember much of that beyond the first time they let me hold him, to be honest, but he didn’t start playing this game until he was around Abby’s age.”  She shifted the baby to one hip and pulled her hair over the other shoulder, looking back over to Karina, who’d started slicing up little slivers of cake for the children threatening to trip her.  “I moved Nolan in here after our dad left to find work, when it got really rough, and I was always helping take care of the little ones then…  I’ve just been so busy the last couple months to come by too often.  I’m looking forward to there being a baby in the house.” 

            I grinned.  “Yeah, unlike normal new parents, they’ll get decent sleep.  I mean, there’s what, twenty-five of us ready to step in and help?” 

            She laughed.  “Something like that.  Though most of them don’t know the first thing of what to do with babies.” 

            I snorted.  “As if _Rina_ does.” 

            “Yeah, she told me about that trip to the grocery a few months ago.  I’m sure you’re going to be the one getting no sleep; every time Renee twitches she’ll be screaming for your help.” 

            “Mm, maybe I’ll start sleeping in one of the confessionals,” I muttered conspiratorially.  “Then she can wake up, you know, the _father_.”  Shaking my head, I asked, “Did they actually decide on Renee yet?” 

            “I’m not sure if Sin’s actually agreed yet, but she doesn’t have any ideas, and Luc really wants to.  I’m on Luc’s side.”  She shrugged a little.  “It’s a good blessing to give the name of someone you loved, no?” 

            …Some days I really wished there was a way my name could still be Duo; it had meaning behind it.  “Yeah, definitely.” 

            She noticed the hitch in my voice, though.  “What’s wrong?” 

            “I miss my name,” I replied frankly.  Despite how everyone had shortened Chaos to the more vague ‘Kay’ in fairly short order, Melissa was one of the people who’d first stumbled on me in that park and would remember that I’d point blank said I wasn’t going by my name. 

            She tilted her head, thinking back.  “It’s Duo, right?  That was what that girl called you?” 

            I sighed.  “When I was little, a kid a lot like Luc took me under wing in his crew.  His name was Solo, and when he died I was suddenly more or less in charge, so…” 

            She nodded.  “That makes sense.  Why not keep, it, then?” 

            I sighed again.  “It’s not exactly a common name.” 

            “Neither is Chaos.”  Her eyes were dancing. 

            There wasn’t really anything I could say to that so I rolled my eyes instead, sticking out my tongue as I took the baby back. 

            “And of course, we have Kay and Melissa, already practicing passing the baby!” Leah announced happily, coming by with the video camera. 

            I laughed, bouncing the little girl some.  “This one’s a bit heavier.” 

            “I get the feeling we _will_ be the designated babysitters, though,” Melissa noted to the camera, grinning.  “Have to make sure we don’t drop her, huh?” 

            Taking that as my cue, I made as if to drop the toddler in my arms and caught her before she could actually fall, making a show of looking nervous before passing her back to my friend and trying to hide behind her.  Melissa sniggered and made to smack at me, but I dodged, peeking around her at Leah as if mortified. 

            “You’re such a goof,” Leah muttered, her tone bordering between amusement and annoyance before she moved on to chase someone else around with the camera.  I blinked after her, not sure why she’d be annoyed.  Well, not unless she was pmsing or something…  She should know by now that asking us all to be serious while on film was the same as asking for the sky. 

            ‘Liss bumped me with one hip again, smirking.  “ _I_ appreciated it.” 

            I grinned back at her; Leah was a pain anyhow.  “Let’s go get some cake.” 

-

***

-

**Kharkiv, Ukraine**

            _…What kind of idiot leaves his window **cracked** at night?_   Heero shook his head and slowly pushed the pane open enough to slide through; this man’s completely unwarranted confidence in his own safety amazed him.  It might be understandable in more peaceful times, he could excuse a civilian’s lack of care… but he was only on the second floor.  He was tempted to go see if the moron had even locked his door. 

            There was no time to waste, though; even with the steady snoring, the oddest noises could bring a person back to, and he had no control over what sound came in here.  Moving quietly, he took the cell phone off its charger and slid back out the window; the buttons beeped obnoxiously when pressed, and he didn’t care to take chances. 

            It didn’t take long to find the call that had been made earlier that day at the time he wanted; he quickly wrote the number down and returned the mobile to its overheating on the charger before climbing back out and leaving the window at that same unwise crack and replacing the screen.  Someone was going to rob the man blind in the middle of the night one of these days, but in all honesty, it was none of his business.  It would probably take an object lesson before Treize’s man realized his bad habits. 

            On an entirely separate note, he really ought to have looked at his ID while he was in there, since his wallet had been sitting right _there_ , so he had a name to use for him. 

            He crawled back in through the window to his own room, not liking the way his leg was pulling.  He really didn’t need to be slowed down tomorrow from this evening’s exertions…  After replacing his own screen and shutting the window firmly, he used his fold-up cane to block the track; no one would be able to sneak up on _him_ unnoticed. 

            The bunk he had rented in the hostel was set up for two, but the place wasn’t full, so he had the room to himself.  The amazing part, really, was that this one, unlike any of the others he had stayed at before, was adjacent to a private bathroom.  It was just a stall, not a tub, so he couldn’t soak his leg… but he could sit down and stay in the hot spray for as long as he wanted, now, instead of having to wait for an odd hour so he would be alone. 

            He had bought bleach before coming back to the hostel to scale the rooftop, so he stripped off his shirt and set that in his hair first, then turned on the water; he would just keep his head out of the spray until the timer on his watch went off.  It wasn’t long before the water was warm enough to appreciate and he set the head to spray where he wanted it before settling into the corner. 

            Pulling the bad leg slowly to his chest, he turned so the water hit it better and tried to massage out the tension; once it was a little more relaxed, he’d go through the physical therapy routine Dr. Srona had taught him.  He couldn’t do all of it in the stall, but he’d at least start, then move back into the room for the rest… maybe get some ice from the machine downstairs for when he laid down. 

            It looked better… the scarring would never fade, but he didn’t care about cosmetics.  The muscles looked _right_ , though, and that eased his worry.  They had been ripped in that last battle in a couple different places; Srona had said that there had been three major tears, and probably a number of smaller ones that had mended themselves.  The problem was that he hadn’t been able to get medical care right away, and the muscles had healed in strange ways because he hadn’t been able to rest… his insistence on trying to move on his own had made matters worse in the long run.  He was so used to everything just healing itself, and the breaks he’d been able to detect hadn’t needed reduction, at least, so it had only been a matter of bracing and compensating until the fractures sealed again… but muscle was harder. 

            Nothing had been severed, for which he was lucky; his leg would have been entirely useless if that had happened, and he would have needed surgery to use it at all.  As it was it would probably help if he could get some reconstructive surgery done anyhow, give him more mobility in the future… but he’d be alright without, too.  _If I have time…_   He grimaced.  After all this was over, when there was really peace…  He would be able to take the time once this was all over.  There was just too much at stake, now. 

            He had had surgery before; he’d had quite a number of nasty injuries during his training, and he’d had to go through physical therapy then, too, but… the muscles had never been allowed the time to atrophy, or to heal incorrectly, so it hadn’t taken anywhere near as long to recover.  He had to work harder on his leg now than he ever had before because he needed to more or less reprogram the muscles to do their old job instead of just attaching to what was closest that would make them more stable.  It was like a child learning to walk again; he had too much new material that had never been trained to match the rest of his body.  He had to catch it up. 

            The problem was, he couldn’t be sure of the overall effects if he worked it too hard.  His leg was weak, thinned out… he could risk actually detaching the muscles.  The heat of the water was pleasant, and it eased the pain, but that wasn’t the point; he was making sure it would actually flex as it was supposed to, not seeking comfort.  He couldn’t afford to fall behind if he pushed past his new limitations, so he had to baby the injury as much as he could.  And the heat really did feel good…  He closed his eyes, enjoying the thick steam he was inhaling. 

            That was one thing about all this; he’d had to learn a different set of discipline.  He’d had to learn patience; to sit back and let nature take its course, watch time roll past… and he’d had to learn to enjoy himself while doing so.  It had been anything but an easy transition, and he was happier than ever to be back up and about again, but… 

            _…It might be nice to do it again, sometime._   Well, not the inability to move by himself, but…  Somehow there was more to sitting still and doing nothing than… well, than doing nothing.  He hadn’t _accomplished_ anything outside of letting the healing process take place, but… the little things, like… like cooking with Mrs. Srona had been, just… 

            They were just _nice_.  Reading, not because he needed the information but just something to do and…  it had been _enjoyable_.  He had no real interest in fiction, but there was so much that he’d always thought he didn’t need to know that he _could_ know, if he just… did nothing. 

            _Was this what I was fighting for?_  

            The word on everyone’s tongue before the altered Operation Meteor had begun had been of escaping oppression, but after that it had all been about “peace.”  He hadn’t thought much beyond the fact that it would be good to not fight anymore, to not kill anymore, because so many innocents died… that girl and her puppy… the pacifists on the shuttle he had destroyed, thinking it was all the military leaders… and it had been their loved ones who paid the price of his actions, not him.  He had wanted to right that… find a way to keep parents from ever finding their little girl in all the rubble, to make it so mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters and children didn’t lose everything they held dear anymore… 

            …To make it so no other boys would lose their fathers as early as he had. 

            He hadn’t really thought it out beyond that, though… that was what Relena was there for.  She led the way, pointed and he followed; at first unwillingly, not sure why he was reacting as he was, then later with enthusiasm.  He had forgotten Odin’s advice to follow his heart during training; it hadn’t exactly been applicable, until he met that girl with her dog… 

            It was odd; when she had given him that flower, he had started to think that that was how it was supposed to be, blending the sweet and innocent – everything that was good – into his life along with what he had found he was so very good at… that maybe that was what he had been missing so much since Dr. J had taken him in.  That was what Odin had shown him, mixing work with pleasure; a job was a job, and it had to be done with the utmost perfection…  But when they had a hit to do in San Diego on Earth, they had stayed for almost two weeks and gone to the zoos, played in the ocean, built sand castles with a few other boys he ran into at the beach… 

            Actually, Heero had no idea if he was even colony-born.  His memories only went back until he was four… or five…  And Odin had always focused on the present and immediate future, never on the past.  It was strange, come to think of it, the meticulous detail he went into on every little thing _except_ the past… but that was just how the man had been. 

            When Heero had found the dead puppy he hadn’t been able to just leave it there.  Its little girl was somewhere nearby, but he couldn’t find her… he hadn’t wanted to admit that the child had surely been under the rubble near where he had found ‘Mary.’  Her hat had been right there, but he convinced himself that she must have dropped it while she was running away.  When he had started to come out of the haze he was reporting hours late, and he had brought the body of the poor creature to explain his failure, the destruction of part of the residential block… 

            For the first time in years he’d had the time to really miss Odin, had wanted to know what he ought to do… and had been told that he was to do nothing; that he wasn’t supposed to feel anything. 

            The training had become harder then… he hadn’t had the time to think about it anymore.  He was too tired to come up with solutions outside of what he was told… and when he was sent to Earth the following year, he had just wanted it to be over with. 

            Waking up on the beach where Relena found him had been something of a disappointment.  He hadn’t been able to make his own choices for so long that he had been reaching out for anything, not sure what was really right or wrong anymore… but somehow that naïve girl had made him realize that he didn’t _have_ to be lost. 

            Not that he had stopped to figure out exactly where he was going, but she had had compassion… and he hadn’t seen true kindness since that little girl had given him a flower just for being lost, trying to make him feel better.  Relena had wanted to make _everything_ better… and that had made all the difference.  She had been a threat to his identity, a weakness he knew had to be crushed… but killing her when she was only trying to help would have been killing that little girl and her dog all over again. 

            So he’d started to follow his emotions instead; if he couldn’t obey his orders, he had to have _something_ … and it had all started to make a little bit of sense.  Even though he had lost that battle at _Libra_ …  Time didn’t stand still for anyone.  This was just one more calm in the storm.  The battles would start again soon enough; it wasn’t anywhere near over yet, no matter what Treize had said.  The idea of a battle to end all battles apparently didn’t work if the wrong side won. 

            And this time, when it was time to really fight again… he’d know what he wanted.  There wouldn’t be any confusion; he would be as calm and confident in himself as Treize had been.  Hopefully, however, his confidence wouldn’t be as horribly misplaced as Khushrenada’s; Zechs had certainly _not_ been the key to peace in the end.  But either way, he wasn’t going to be anyone’s tool anymore.  Whether he made good or bad decisions, they would be _his_. 

            He wouldn’t be against flying a gundam again, if he was able to get his hands on one… but he would take it and fight what _he_ believed in, like he had at the end of the war.  Not on some mysterious mission, not to get rid of liabilities… 

            He smiled at the memory of Duo’s shocked expression when he had cocked the trigger on the gun when he came to him in prison; it wasn’t like he had been able to do that even when he _had_ tried.  _Maybe I wasn’t much of a tool during the war after all._   He _had_ constantly been rebelling and doing what he thought was necessary the whole while, even when the orders were coming from Relena. 

            That was something of a comfort, really; he didn’t regret his actions on the battlefield after a certain point in time. 

            This time, though, he wouldn’t be relying on instinct.  He’d be ready with a plan, with clear goals.  He wasn’t going to be spun about on his head and mislead by someone with ulterior motives. 

            _…That **was** what made everything I did wrong during the last war, right?_   He thought so… but it was something he would probably have to figure out as time went on. 

            _Treize, though…_

            He could contact Treize now, but he wasn’t sure if he really _wanted_ to yet.  He had wanted to opportunity to do so, but he had no idea what the aristocrat’s motives were.  Epyon had come with no strings attached – Treize was usually concise if nothing else – but at the same time, he was worried about what the man had in mind for Wufei… and if the other gundam pilot needed his help, he didn’t want to alert Khushrenada to his presence. 

            So he would keep the number… and hopefully Treize would still be answering the same line after Wufei’s situation was a little more stable.  Chances were that Treize would be an aid to him the same way he had been while the Sanc Kingdom had come back into power, and that would be great…  But that was because their motives had been the same.  They might still be… but it was hard to say without talking to him… and he couldn’t talk to him until he knew his motives in chasing down Wufei… 

            Hopefully, time would fix that problem. 

            Considering his leg, he sighed.  _Patience and exercising caution…  I’m going to have to move just as slowly up behind Treize so I can actually catch him where **I** want him to be._   It just figured that he would probably be completely healed by the time he had that chance to catch the man unawares. 

            Shaking his head, he started to work out the tension in his thigh; need for patience or no, procrastination was a dangerous disease. 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium**

            Relena fingered the papers, biting one lip.  She was alone in her suite now, and had been planning on going straight to sleep… but then Milliardo had told her about this. 

            She’d been selected as a candidate by the R. L. Tomorrow Today Fund. 

            It was a private fund, one where the donator preferred complete anonymity, apparently… and was amazingly wealthy.  It had only been running for the past eight years, but she remembered her father mentioning it as a major factor in cleaning up some of the worst colony slums in L1 and L3.  It had coupled with the Barton Foundation here and there, but never really intruded on the Winner Corporation’s territory. 

            Her father had said that the RLTT Fund was made in very good taste, and well enough invested to last as long as the older foundations it resembled, but that it lacked organization.  Milliardo had told her point blank that the organization of the funding was left to its vendors, which was one of the reasons candidates were outright _selected_.  The plans still had to be approved, and this was in part asking for the details of her work in China, but anything she did under its funding would be free reign. 

            The last candidate had been Howard Oclaire of the Sweepers, the most recent project the commissioning of the spacecraft _Peacemillion_ , created as a sort of “rescue” or “safekeeping” craft for political leaders.  It was supposed to be some sort of universal asylum, with room for a small amount of personal guard MS.  Of course, it had ended up housing the gundams and their pilots before its destruction, but that had not been its intention… probably, anyway. 

            She didn’t like the mystery surrounding the fund.  However, it seemed to be dedicated to specific causes, and she could use the extra push behind her… and if it was dedicated to _her_ cause, then it shouldn’t be a problem.  Milliardo had seemed proud, excited even, by the idea of her being taken up by the fund… and admittedly, it had a good history despite how young it was, so it would likely help her quickly gain favor.  It would mean that she was definitely chasing the best interests of the people, for all that her projects alone should say that much. 

            And it would mean that she wouldn’t have to rely on Milliardo’s approval.  That alone made the idea attractive, no matter the mystery. 

            She read through the letter more thoroughly, noting that an interest in other projects she had in mind would be appreciated…  That it was understood that the Peacecraft Regime had already struck a deal with the Chinese for the heat amplifiers, and if necessary, money from RLTT could be put forth to forward that project, but they were more interested in other projects she had in mind, especially considering the extremely low standard of living across the globe. 

            There were heavy implications throughout the letter itself that peace was the goal; the rising new societies weren’t actually brought up, but there was a note of “ensuring that dangerous persons do not threaten the greater population.”  She honestly had no idea exactly what that implied, because she could take it in _so_ many directions… 

            …And there was some appeal to that.  This _was_ the group that had funded the construction of _Peacemillion_ , and she seriously doubted they had been clueless about exactly what Howard had intended to use it for… and what he _had_ done with it still fit into its listed purpose nicely enough.  It had been a sanctuary for Sally Po, Noin, and the gundam pilots, and they had certainly mattered greatly enough on the political scale… which made the whole idea sketchy.  Normally sketchy was bad, but if it meant she might still have full financial backing when she removed her brother from power, she was willing to be as shady as a drug dealer. 

            So it wasn’t as if this was a decision to make; Milliardo hadn’t even seemed to think there was any question as to how she should respond to the candidacy.  It was just time to plan, work out the fine details…  _Maybe Jake might be willing to lend a hand again._   He seemed like he was fairly well networked despite being a computer geek, and he had made sure to bring in the realism side of the issue when they had talked before.  If he was willing to brainstorm with her again, she’d certainly appreciate it. 

            Pursing her lips, she reached out for her yellow notepad and flipped to a fresh sheet, starting to sketch out a few basic ideas; sleep could wait another hour or two. 

**-**

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	17. Odd Behavior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dating tactics differ greatly between cultures - as well as the methods of discouraging it. You should probably learn the other person's last name before going somewhere alone with them, though.

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_**Odd Behavior** _

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**June 4 th 197 – Sunday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “They ran their own business for as long as I could remember,” Melissa explained.  “Daddy handled of the work part of it, and my mom managed their relations and paperwork.” 

            “That’s cool,” Duo returned amiably, focusing on the vid phone he was fixing; it was much older than the standard these days, and therefore required a lot more wiring.  According to the owner, the picture hadn’t been showing for the past year or so, and then recently the sound had gone to hell.  By nature of what components went into a full vid phone they weren’t the cheapest things in the world, and besides that, they were going for an even higher price lately because the only places still making the things were in space, not Earthside.  The owner of the thing had already gotten a cheap audio phone, but he wanted to see if he could sell his old piece to the highest bidder, or something… provided it was working, anyhow.  Considering the fact that the screen was still in good shape and the primary circuits looked okay, and it was really those things that were expensive, the price he paid Duo wouldn’t affect the actual moneymaking process. 

            “Then she got sick, and we found out she only had a couple months… and my dad just kinda gave up for a while,” she continued.  Her tone was soft, but she was still working steadily on installing a new alternator in the car she’d first started helping with. 

            Well, new _ish_ – they’d plucked it out of a car that was a good bit newer than this one at a boneyard just a few miles out of town.  The ignition coil hadn’t been much of an issue, but they’d had to wait until the guy had more actual cash on hand before they committed to buying a piece for his car. 

            Why wasn’t _anything_ made on Earth anymore?  Shit, he’d always appreciated the low costs when he lived up in the colonies, but this _sucked_. 

            “But yeah, he let the whole business nosedive, just barely sold it before he hit bankrupt…  Guess it finally occurred to him that no money was a bad idea.”  She made an amused sort of noise.  “He started up a little gig like what we’re doing and I kept the books… there really was barely enough demand to keep the three of us afloat, though, with the big corporations.  Then when _Libra_ fell, nobody wanted to spend the money on the little kinds of odd jobs we fed ourselves off of, and it crashed all over again.”  She stood up straight and stretched.  “The point I was getting at, though, is that if this keeps expanding like it has been and we get enough custom to work off of, I can handle the paperwork.  If we get high up enough that we need official papers, I actually have history with all the ins and outs and can put my name down without it seeming stupid.” 

            Duo pursed his lips.  It was something he had also been considering, but he hadn’t thought out as many details, it seemed.  “Everything would have to go in your name,” he noted.  “In all reality, I’m an illegal immigrant.”  Looking up, he grinned.  “Actually, better yet, I don’t even exist.” 

            Melissa let out an amused snort, leaning back over to mess with something under the hood.  “So even if we get to be big, I still get to pay you under the table, huh?” 

            “Part of this works because we work in trade more than we do money,” Duo noted pointedly.  “And just for the record, I have experience too.  Hilde inherited a scrap yard from an uncle or something during the war and I helped her keep it in order.  Nothing official, but I’ve handled paperwork before.” 

            “Good, then I won’t have to teach you,” she returned easily.  She stopped whatever it was she was doing… well, there wasn’t any noise involved, at least.  “So you guys met during the war, or just got together by then?” 

            “I met her after the whole mess had started,” Duo admitted.  “Wasn’t until a while later when stress was running high that suddenly I had her pinned to the couch and her hands were in my hair.  Not long after that duty called and I had to run, so she got the bright idea to go get mixed up in something really fuckin’ stupid again.”  He shook his head.  “I don’t know, I guess she needed to, the same way I’ve gone and done stupid shit.” 

            “Do you regret not going with her?” 

            “No.”  He set the machine aside so he could look through the different kinds of wire he had instead.  “I don’t want that kind of trouble anymore, and the amazingly naïve girl looking for a cause went and turned into a daredevil.  I mean, I’m sure she’ll do fine, but I’m done, and I’d rather have her as a friend I get to talk to now and again than a girlfriend happily leading me into the furnace.”  He sighed.  “For a while, during the war, it seemed like it’d all work out, we’d get some kind of happily ever after away from it all… but it all crashed.  Hell, it _literally_ crashed… 

            “The fighting was something I did because it was the right thing to do, and I was good at it…  I don’t want to live out my life like that.” 

            “You think she does?” 

            “I think she hasn’t seen enough shit go wrong; it’s still just exciting.  If all her disputes ended tomorrow, she’d be restless, wouldn’t know what to do with herself anymore.” 

            “You always get excited when you’re getting into a fight,” Melissa argued. 

            Duo sighed.  “That’s different…  Hell, maybe I’m wrong about her, I’d be happy if I was, but when she was here she just reminded me too much of some of the career military women I’ve met; she’d hold on happily for the rest of her life with no regrets.  That’s not me.”  He smiled over to her; she was leaning against the side of the car now, looking at him.  “I’d take this life of trying to make ends meet any day.” 

            She pursed her lips for a moment, considering him, before noting, “You’re really burned out, huh?” 

            He laughed.  “Yeah, something like that…  I sate your curiosity yet?” 

            She tsked at him and picked up the battery, heading back to the engine.  “I wasn’t trying to be annoying,” she didn’t quite snap. 

            Duo blinked.  “That last comment was supposed to be funny.” 

            “You still meant it though,” she returned.  “Sorry for being interested.” 

            “’Liss,” he protested, standing up and moving to follow her.  “I’m sorry, it just feels like everybody’s asking everything about me lately…” 

            “Well, maybe it’s because we _care_.”  She stood up straight to look him in the eye again… and she looked like she was trying not to cry.  “I’ve been telling you about my history, it’s common courtesy to do the same.” 

            Acting more on instinct than anything, he grabbed her and pulled her into a hug.  “I’m sorry,” he muttered again.  “I didn’t mean to be a jerk.  I’m just… nervous, to be talking about it all so much.  My past is just one fuck-up after another.” 

            “So is everyone else’s,” she grumbled into his chest, gripping his shirt. 

            “So, I have an issue with mine,” he explained.  “I don’t see why I ought to talk about it if I’m not comfortable doing it.” 

            “Because it matters to you,” she argued.  “Is it so hard to imagine that somebody cares enough to want to know what’s important to you?”  She was glaring up at him now, but not backing back out of his arms. 

            …This was actually really weird, come to think of it. 

            “The point is that it _doesn’t_ matter to me.” 

            “But it does!” 

            “Fine, I don’t _want_ it to matter.”  He rubbed a thumb over her shoulder, still fairly confused.  Looking into her eyes, he sincerely added, “I was just trying to get you to laugh; my life story would make you sad, happiness only seems to last for a couple months at a go, tops.”  She was still glaring at him, and he blew his bangs out of his face.  “I don’t want to talk about it because I don’t want to jinx what I’ve got, alright?  I don’t want everything here in Amsterdam to fall to pieces like everything else always has.  I want to enjoy it so long as it’ll last…” 

            Melissa buried her face in his chest.  “It doesn’t always break down, Kay.” 

            He sighed.  “I know…  But you’ve got to give me a while to convince myself that.” 

-

***

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 **June 5 th 197 – Monday** – **Zheleznogorsk, Russia**

            Heero glanced up when he felt someone standing near him, not moving away.  He blinked at the red-haired girl.  She smirked back at him, not moving.  She didn’t exactly seem like a threat, however, so he paused his game and offered, “Hello.”  They were in a secluded old courtyard in town… people were walking through periodically, but they were alone for the most part. 

            “Hello,” she returned easily, moving to sit next to him, then leaving over to look at the screen.  “Ah, no wonder you’re focused.” 

            He looked back to the game and hit the pause again, quickly moving a block so that it would actually fill the spot he wanted it to; three lines vanished.  “I guess,” he hazarded.  Tetris didn’t exactly take _that_ much concentration.  He had no idea what it was about him that had caught her attention. 

            “I’m Dasha,” she noted, smiling again and running those very green eyes over him. 

            “I’m Odin.” 

            “Are you new here?” 

            “I’m just passing through.”  This was a smaller town than he’d like, to be perfectly honest; he already had to stay far enough away from his mark to possibly lose him by chance alone, without any distractions.  _What does she want?_  

            “That’s too bad,” she murmured, leaning over to actually watch his game as he played… resting her head on his shoulder. 

            _…Wait, what?_  

            He glanced at her again from the corner of his eye; the blocks were moving fast enough that he really couldn’t do more.  That confident little smirk was still in place, though her eyes were a mixture of innocent beauty and seeming interest in what he was doing. 

            _Is she **flirting** with me?_   He paused the game again and turned to look at her. 

            Those jade eyes lit up with amusement and she actually grinned at him, moving so that she had both arms on his shoulder instead, resting her head on them.  “Do you have somewhere to stay while you’re here?” 

            _…Seriously?_   He looked back to his game, then back at her.  “Why?”  He had been under the impression that boys who stuck to a game system like glue were geeky and unnoticeable.  If this was in fact not true, then he might have really screwed himself over. 

            She laughed.  “Honey, you’re _gorgeous_.  I’m laying down dibs before some other girl does.”  When he gave her an incredulous look, she just laughed again.  “Oh and you don’t even know it, that just makes it better…” 

            “I…”  He stopped, running his tongue over his teeth.  “You’re weird.”  That sounded incredibly lame, but nothing else was coming to mind. 

            …Exactly when did her leg cross over his?  He suddenly had a great need to swallow… the girl was really close.  _Why did I let her get this close?_   He knew the answer was there, something obvious, but it just wasn’t coming to him…  This was just uncomfortable, not threatening…  Right, he’d let her so close because she wasn’t a threat. 

            Maybe she _was_ , just not the kind he’d thought he had to look for. 

            She laughed again, seemingly delighted by his comment, and suddenly her mouth was on his earlobe.  He gasped slightly, losing what was left of his train of thought in the sensation… 

            What the- it was his _ear_.  _Is this **normal**?_  

            She trailed a few kisses just below his jaw line, making the little hairs on the back of his neck rise… but not in an unpleasant way.  His whole body was thrumming like when he was in the midst of battle.  He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed that feeling of hard adrenaline… 

            _Shit._   He tugged at his pant legs, trying to resituate before he embarrassed himself.  It didn’t exactly help that Dasha was trailing a hand down his leg, but he didn’t really want to stop her either… 

            “So, Odin,” she murmured in his ear.  “How long are you in town?” 

-

***

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**Between Konotop and Homyel, Ukraine**

            “So where are we going?” 

            Adam shrugged, shifting his backpack.  We had stowed away on a cargo train, and actually didn’t have to worry about discovery at all for a few hours.  “I’m just getting rid of your tail; after that, you’re on your own again.” 

            I frowned.  “I only know where one of the safe houses is, and it’s not anywhere near here.”  If he planned to ditch me in unknown territory, he had better realize he had to tell me where I could hole away until I recovered enough to make my way back to the main base.  As he had put it, while I was talented enough in other areas, running apparently wasn’t my forte. 

            Damn right it wasn’t.  Running was for cowards; I was _never_ going to live this down.  A good part of the inability to hide was my ethnicity, mind, but even if it was cowardly to run, I could at least succeed in what I tried to do. 

            “Then I suggest you start giving me direction enough that we get closer to your destination,” the man returned mildly.  “We’re out of the immediate danger zone; we can go in more than a single direction now.” 

            …This couldn’t be what I suddenly had the suspicion it was…  “You don’t know where any other bases are?” 

            He snorted in an amused sort of way.  “I suspect Po likes to keep that information just among her own people.  One of the reasons I’m not following you all the way to safety is because I respect that need for privacy.” 

            I stared at him, speechless.  He had to be screwing with me, he wasn’t really…  “Po didn’t send you?” 

            “She has no means by which to contact me… and I really don’t know her anyway.” 

            “Who the fuck _are_ you?!” 

            He raised his brows coolly.  “I gave you a name, didn’t I?” 

            “Adam _what_?” 

            He just shrugged again.  “I haven’t decided on a last name yet.” 

            Oh, that was just _so_ comforting.  ‘Adam’ was probably just an assumed name too.  I ground my teeth, thinking fast.  He’d just _saved_ me back in Kars, hadn’t demanded anything of me, so I’d been stupid enough to assume he was part of my faction.  _Why **did** he do that?_   After all these years, I was really tired of thinking one thing and having the truth be another.  “You’re not connected to anyone in Po’s faction?” 

            “I don’t think so.”  Another shrug.  “I don’t know the identities of all that many people that are siding with her, though, so I might; she keeps her intel much tighter than Zechs or even Treize.” 

            “Why did you help me, then?” I demanded. 

            I was going to smack him if he shrugged just one more time, I swear.  “You needed it.”  He tilted his head.  “And you’re important, I think.  Either you are, or you’re going to be; I’m not sure.  I’m not sure what Treize wanted, and it might have been harmless to let him catch you, but it’s best not to take chances.” 

            “You’re doing this all on a _whim_?” 

            “I don’t like chances, they’re iffy.”  _Well no shit._   He was smirking at me though, which meant he’d said it just to annoy me…  He chuckled.  “We’re playing with the fate of the world and colonies, I’d rather not make a mistake that’s not easily mended.  It would have been difficult to get you back from Treize if he’d taken you, and you’re important to Po’s plan to take down Zechs, so it seemed like a better idea to simply find you first and preempt the trouble.”  His smirk was just sardonic.  “I would have felt bad if something happened to you and I had been able to prevent it.” 

            …This guy was really fucking bizarre. 

            He gave me an expectant look.  “So where are we aiming for?” 

            I considered him for a moment, debating if I really wanted to tell him… but it wasn’t like I had anything left to lose.  A rogue agent might not be a bad thing, considering what he’d done so far.  “Slovakia.” 

            He pursed his lips, thinking.  “I’ll see if I can take you as far as Warsaw, then.” 

            Considering the fact that headquarters was really in Prague, not anywhere in Slovakia, that worked out just great. 

            “It might be a while, though,” he warned.  “We haven’t lost them yet, we still need to play at misdirection.” 

            I nodded, and closed my eyes, leaning against the side of the car; I really needed to think. 

-

***

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**Brussels, Belgium**

            “What do you think?” 

            “I would say that promoting the police force would be best for your first idea,” Dorothy decided, not looking up from the linen she was cutting into long strips.  “I mean, they’re all just grand, but you don’t go lecturing someone about washing the street when your house is a mess.” 

            Relena sighed.  “It’s not the worst problem, though.” 

            “You need to prove you can handle your own before you get into the more radical moves or no one will ever take you seriously,” Val argued.  “The people don’t feel safe. They’re not going to want to go embark on a mission to save a bunch of other people when they’re barely getting by, living in fear.” 

            “Driving off the fear would be the first step of making the people really want to follow you for _you_ , not who your family is,” Dorothy added. 

            Kelly rolled her eyes.  “We’re not going to solve the fear issue in terms of dangerous people until we make that strike force.” 

            “This would be the first step to that, though,” Val said dismissively.  “It makes at least the cities safe, and once that’s down in concrete, we can try to follow up.  We can’t start calming people down with an abstract idea; if you want their trust, you have to give them something they can _see_.” 

            “What about the families of those young people who got snatched by the groups trying to start their own damn societies!” snapped Kelly.  “Or what’s left of the town that got outright _pillaged_ last week?  How is that not real?” 

            “I can’t put the fund money to that strike force, it’s too violent,” Relena cut in.  “The police idea works because it’s starting a community militia, people taking care of their own people, and it also puts a bit more money in people’s pockets to help _them_ work out their own problems.  It’ll promote a healthier economy overall.  The strike force has to go through the heads of the departments under Milliardo, and Valerie is right, this might make the idea seem more plausible.” 

            Kelly put her head in her hands.  “I know, I know, but God, I wish people would quit _ignoring_ it…” 

            The door opened and Milliardo peered in at them, holding up the piece of paper the four girls had taped to Relena’s suite door that read ‘Girls Only: All Men Scat!’  He raised his brows questioningly, lips twitching ever so slightly. 

            Valerie sniggered; it _had_ been her idea.  “What are you doing?” she demanded mock imperiously.  “You can read, can’t you?” 

            Relena smiled happily over at her brother, offering him a helpless shrug.  This really _had_ been just a get together with the people she’d gotten to be closer to since she came back to Brussels, and had only degraded back into politics in the last few minutes.  They had decided, once they couldn’t find Val’s boyfriend or Mitchell or Jake, that if their company was going to be spurned they would spurn it right back… or something.  The entire episode had been a series of giggle fits while Val yanked a sharpie out of her purse to go through with it. 

            The blonde man considered the romance movie playing quietly on the TV, the bottles of nail polish about, and Kelly’s half braided head before grimacing and putting the sign back on the door.  “I’m going to bed,” he noted as he left.  “Good night.” 

            “Okay, go get your hair wet,” Dorothy muttered, putting the scissors away. 

            Relena eyed the cloth dubiously.  “What are we doing?” 

            “Giving you cheap curls,” she returned easily.  “That and I always thought rag doll curls lasted longer.  Go wet down your hair and drain out the excess and I’ll show you.” 

            “Ooh, that’s what you’ve been up to!” Val exclaimed, sipping at her tea.  Her eyes lit up as she looked back to Relena.  “Oh, it’s going to look really cute…” 

            At a certain point, it probably wasn’t worth protesting.  Besides, she was curious.  “Alright, give me a minute.”  She had enough hair at this point that working water through it in the sink was a fairly obnoxious activity, but she didn’t feel like taking another shower either.  _Well, at least it’s not like Dorothy’s…_   She had no idea _how_ the woman could stand to have it so long… she was tempted to cut hers as it was, and it only reached her bellybutton. 

            She smirked at the idea of bringing it up as short as Noin’s.  _Milliardo would **freak**._   Not that she ever wanted her hair _that_ short, but it was almost a fun idea at the same time…  And she wanted to break the mold of how she looked back during the wars, wanted to seem like she had really changed, matured… 

            She wrung out her hair and made her way back into the bedroom, a towel around her shoulders.  They were having a girl’s night in every respect, so why not.  “Would I look good with short hair?” 

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	18. Sugar, Spice, And...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Girls. Of all ages and naïveté, wisdom, or complete lack thereof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relena is so very fun to embarrass, just for the record. She just really, really is…
> 
> \--Edit:  
> My issues with canon timeline inconsistencies and fixes at the end of the chapter - this is just... I had to make a choice and stick to it because the canon writers are all over the place. My biggest issues revolve around canon background for both Mariemaia and Sally Po, and you'll end up getting rants on both. I'm pretty sure my fix for Marie is unique and, sadly, the best one I could come up with that has her still legitimately be Treize Khushrenada and Leia Barton's daughter.  
> \--

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**_Sugar, Spice, And… _ **

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**June 8 th 197 – Thursday – Brussels, Belgium**

            Relena sighed looking into the _still_ empty room.  It had been three days since she had gotten back and she still had yet to see hide or hair of Jake… and she really wanted his opinion on her proposal for the RLTT fund before she sent it out.  She had had Dorothy and the other girls read through it a couple times already, but he had a sharp eye and she wanted this to be _perfect_. 

            _Maybe he’s asleep?_   The way he worked odd hours didn’t necessarily mean he kept a graveyard shift, it meant he alternately worked and slept whenever he wanted to… he had just been keeping to a particular schedule for the first couple weeks she had started talking to him.  He had made it clear before that if she needed something she could come wake him up and he wouldn’t mind… 

            He didn’t answer immediately when she knocked and she stood waiting for a while… knocked again, but didn’t even hear a stir of movement.  Biting her lower lip, she walked back out into the hall, shutting the door behind her.  _Maybe I just missed him in the hall?_   Dorothy said he usually ended up in the cafeteria sometime during the day, just rarely during normal hours.  She had just checked there, but maybe… 

            The cafeteria showed no sign of him, and letting out an exasperated sigh, she headed over to the Department of Defense; Mitchell had been excitedly showing her a few sketches he’d made up of different cultural ornaments in their hotel that apparently Jake had asked him to make, before they had headed home.  Apparently drawing was a major hobby of his, because he’d also given her a rather sweet one of her sleeping that looked professionally done.  Either way, it had been Jake specifically that he called to work out the editing of the contract, and she had gotten the distinct impression they were good friends… so maybe he was visiting Mitchell. 

            No one seemed to notice her after a cursory glance… though that also meant they didn’t try to help her find what she was looking for.  They were all busy, and she certainly didn’t mind the lack of fawning attention she’d encountered elsewhere.  It _did_ take her a while to find Mitchell’s desk though… 

            …which was empty. 

            So, maybe they _were_ hanging out then, and her theory wasn’t wrong… but if they were, the question was _where_. 

            Sighing, she headed back out. 

-

***

-

**Maxyr, Belarus**

            Ivan Alekseev frowned at the little device.  Sony brand, it definitely looked nifty, but he had no idea what it was… 

            …Kristine had probably gotten it for him and slipped it in his bag before he left.  It had a shutter on it, so maybe she’d wanted him to take pictures?  He hadn’t properly gone through everything in his knapsack up to this point, which would be why he hadn’t noticed the thing.  He grimaced.  This impromptu trip was for Treize, not Zechs, pictures were probably a bad idea… and it had far too many buttons too.  He sighed a little, shaking his head.  He appreciated the thought, really, but it wasn’t his kind of gadget.  He slid it back in his bag.  _When will she stop buying me overcomplicated shit…?_   He’d have to get one of the kids to figure it out for him once he got home.  In the end, he still wouldn’t play with it and Danielle would probably wander off with it… which was just fine because his daughter would actually _use_ it, but the process would annoy his wife. 

            He couldn’t be gone much longer without someone realizing something was fishy, though, so at least he would be home soon.  He could ask Kris about it then. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “Hello?”  It was strange that someone had called and asked for him at work, so- 

            “I think my water broke,” Karina blurted out. 

            His stomach dropped.  “You’re going into labor?” 

            His wife sounded annoyed.  “That’s what that _means_ doesn’t it?” 

            She had a point.  And really, she was over a week late, he shouldn’t be surprised, but the idea that she was going to have her _today_ …  That one hadn’t occurred to him. 

            “Chaos is taking me to the hospital and putting the money down,” she continued, “And this will probably take ten years, so you should finish your shift so your next check is decent.” 

            It was really tempting to just go to the hospital – his boss would let him – but she made a very good point; they _did_ need the money, for all that Chaos had been bringing in more than normal lately.  He didn’t like the idea of having to rely on the American if push came to shove just because he didn’t want to pressure the boy; he already took far more than his share onto his shoulders.  “Alright,” he agreed.  “I’ll be another three and something hours; call me if it starts looking like you’ll be getting in deep before that, huh?” 

            “Oh, I _wish_.”  She hissed in a breath.  “Fuck, this is really gonna suck…”  In the background he heard Chaos cheerfully announcing, “Hey, you rhymed!”  Luc started sniggering as Karina snapped, “Fuck you!” 

            “I love you,” he told her, practically bouncing.  The baby was _coming_ … 

            “I love you too,” she returned, sounding tired.  “I probably won’t in an hour or so, but that’s beside the point.  I’ll see you when you get there.” 

            “See you at the hospital,” he agreed, and hung up, starting to work with a new fervor.  His baby girl was almost _here_ … 

-

***

-

**Zheleznogorsk, Russia**

            Heero leaned against the doorframe leading back into the bedroom, tousling his hair with a towel to dry it.  Dasha was still curled up in the blankets, where she had been when he had entered the bathroom.  He’d made it fast to accommodate her water and electric bills, so it wasn’t exactly surprising that she was still asleep. 

            He considered her a moment, still resting his weight against the frame.  He’d spent what were possibly the most amazing three days of his life with the redhead, and some part of him wanted to stay… but she’d also noted that her roommate was coming back from her parents’ today, which would make already cramped apartment unbearable… 

            She shifted slightly so that he could see her face, and grinned over at him.  “You’re staring,” she accused. 

            He smiled back, holding the towel in his hands.  “I was given the impression that I was allowed.” 

            Dasha seemed to find that response amusing.  “You are,” she informed him as she sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest.  “I was just pointing it out.” 

            “Does that mean I need to stop?” 

            She just laughed, a soft blush lighting up her cheeks.  It matched her hair.  Considering her rather… unabashed… self-introduction, he wouldn’t have thought her _capable_ of blushing, but she seemed to do it quite a bit when the provocation wasn’t sexual.  Fingering the stitching on the comforter, she said more than asked, “I’m never going you see you again, am I?” 

            He bit his lip, not really sure what to say.  On one hand, his heart was wrenching at the idea of leaving, but that wasn’t even an option; she’d made it clear already that she wasn’t interested in a long-term relationship.  He’d more or less known that when she practically crawled into his lap in a public place.  The past few days had been amazing, something he would never have _imagined_ …  but for all intensive purposes, it had been nothing but a fantastic fever-dream. 

            Yet she was asking, with a hint of sadness in her voice…  “Do you want to?” 

            She tilted her head at him, and he wondered if maybe some of the same thoughts were running through her head as had been through his.  Instead of answering, she asked, “Where are you going?” 

            He shook his head a little.  “I don’t know yet.  I’m trying to find my friends from before the takeover.” 

            She nodded a little, looking out the room’s one window…. and he couldn’t help but focus on how the sunlight glinted off of her hair, lit up her skin.  She was beautiful, and the confidence she bore said she knew it… but she hadn’t seemed to mind that when looking for a bedmate she’d stumbled across a virgin.  He would have expected that to turn an experienced woman away, but she hadn’t seemed to care. 

            On some level, despite the desire to stay here longer, he realized that her attitude of wanting a three-day one night stand meant they wouldn’t work well together in the long run.  He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d gone with it in the first place, honestly… 

            But he didn’t regret it. 

            “Do you want me to just disappear?”  He asked quietly.  If she did, then he supposed that that would be that, and he could stop worrying about it. 

            Dasha gripped her hair with one hand, the other still holding up the blanket.  “Gosh, Odin…”  She met his eyes… and there was some comfort for him in her slightly bewildered look.  “I don’t know.” 

            _…Why can’t women ever be concise?_   Not that he was right now… but _he_ had never done this before, and she obviously had.  He sighed, motioning over at his bag.  “I have to go.”  He already wore his jeans, but the rest of his clothes were over there, including the ones Dasha had talked him into buying, saying they looked really good on him; because besides taking him to bed she had managed to explain some of what was apparently common fashion sense.  She had shown him the city… for the first time in his life he had been introduced to a place not through its numbers, not its vulnerabilities to attack, just… for what it was.  Because it was beautiful in its own way… 

            Like she was. 

            She nodded a little, looking away again, and he came over and sat down on the bed next to her, turning her chin so she looked at him again.  Her eyes were glistening slightly, but not much, and she moved easily into the kiss he initiated.  It wasn’t any of the fast and hard ones they had exchanged over the past few days, but softer, sweet… 

            Heero pulled away and she didn’t resist, only smiled slightly with that remorseful glimmer in her eyes… and he offered her an earnest look of his own.  “Do you want to see me again?” 

            Those bright green eyes turned searching, and she was silent for a moment before nodding.  “Maybe,” she whispered. 

            “Maybe?” 

            “I suppose it depends on how long it is.  On what’s happening when you come back.” 

            …He supposed that made a sort of sense.  Resting his hand on her shoulder and the back of her neck, playing with her hair a little, he muttered, “Alright.” 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium**

            Relena muttered darkly under her breath, throwing herself into the desk chair.  She had been searching for over three _hours_ , and she still hadn’t stumbled across any _rumors_ of Jake.  Well, she’d stopped to eat for a bit of that, and gotten into a conversation with one of the people down in Reconstruction, but still.  _He has to come back here eventually…_  

            In truth, she was somewhat irritated that she hadn’t been getting something more constructive done.  She had gone to her office at one point and tried to work on a different project, however, and been unable to focus.  It all _hinged_ on this…  Okay, not really, but it certainly felt like it.  She had a mental block against it or something… finish one job before you start another… 

            The princess glared over at the blank computer monitor showing her reflection.  _Why can’t he be glued to the computer like he always was before?_ she grumped.  _No, watch, he **is** , he just has a laptop too…_  Maybe computer junkies were all the same, combat specialists with a notebook laptop tucked under one arm… 

            A thought occurred to her, and she sniggered.  So long as her blonde friend didn’t wear spandex shorts under his jeans, it was all good.  If it came to that, the ensuing paranoia would just be too much.  She’d find a gun under his pillow if she looked, just watch… 

            She blinked in dismay at the weapon.  She hadn’t actually expected to find one, but there it was, dark against the navy sheets.  Feeling flustered, she reprimanded herself for forgetting that he _had_ been a member of the Specials, and a talented one, to work with her brother and Noin before they all went in different directions.  Milliardo probably slept with a gun too… she knew that Noin had, if not necessarily under the pillow. 

            _Does Mitchell?_   That seemed likely too, but she’d never bothered to check, or just watch him when he woke up to see where he took it from.  Dorothy had kept a bag with a long cord looped around her neck that had a small pistol in it when they slept, despite Mitchell’s presence.  Dorothy was apparently a fairly good shot with her little purse guns she always seemed to have; according to Milliardo she wasn’t bad with the bigger ones either, but she didn’t like to appear to be carrying a gun unless she was in uniform. 

            Jake’s weapon was hauntingly familiar… it looked like Heero’s.  But really, all guns looked alike.  _I just had the most experience with Heero’s in my face._   The one time she’d fired a gun, it had been more the kind of thing Dorothy liked to carry, and Une hadn’t had to even _try_ to dodge… and that had seemed something of a directive not to try again, because she wasn’t any good.  Then there had been the whole total pacifism idea that had gone completely to pieces, but that was so long done that there wasn’t much for it. 

            _How **do** they tell them all apart?_ she wondered, gazing at the thing.  What kind of gun _had_ Heero always carried?  It would be too much of a coincidence for this one to be the same, but she really couldn’t have pointed out the features of Heero’s; she wouldn’t recognize it if she saw it again.  Maybe she’d ask Dorothy later, or Jake… 

            _...Oh my God, I’m in his **bedroom**!_  

            Blushing furiously, she put his pillow back down and rushed back into his office, expecting the man to be standing there with a raised eyebrow, but no, he hadn’t come back.  Throwing herself back into the desk chair, she let out a relieved sigh; she would have absolutely _died_ if he had caught her poking around his personal space.  She wasn’t the overly bold teenager she had been a few years ago; and she had had distinct _reasons_ to encroach on Heero’s privacy anyway.  _Good_ reasons.  Jake had shown himself to be nothing but a worthy friend, as had David Mitchell and the girls she’d become close to, and she’d just barged in there without a moment’s hesitation.  She rested her elbows on the desk, head in her hands.  _I need to start realizing what I’m doing **before** I do it.  I am **not** a little girl anymore…_  

            There was a slip of paper on the keyboard. 

            She had assumed before that it was something that had been left for him, because there were papers all over his desk that had obviously been things he needed to go through… but this was handwritten. 

            …in Jake’s handwriting. 

_-_

_Hey,_

_Having something of a change in occupation, and needed to go into retraining.  I’m going to be living down in the barracks for a few weeks so if anyone needs me for something, I’m either sleeping or kicking ass down in Twelfth._

_Jake_

_-_

 

            _Wow, I feel stupid…_   Hurriedly, she stood and ducked back out into the hall.  She hadn’t closed the door while she was in there, but it had been shut initially so she shut it on her way out and headed in the direction of the main military complex. 

            “Hey.” 

            She spun around guiltily at the call, giving Dorothy a look that she knew was too nervous.  “Hello.” 

            The other woman raised a brow, smirking slightly.  Pointing back to the room, she asked, “What were you doing?” 

            “Nothing.”  The moment she said it she wanted to slap a hand over her mouth. _Really, can I get any **more** hand caught in the cookie jar?_   “I was just seeing if Jake was in.” 

            Dorothy’s look was skeptical, but she only let out an amused sort of snort and gestured for Relena to follow her.  “Come on, I have something you ought to see.” 

-

***

-

**L3-16512**

            I shoved the back door open and nodded a hello at the startled butler before bolting across the kitchen and through the formal dining room, up the stairs.  “Meagan!”  I threw open the door to the craft room, frowning when I didn’t find the woman there.  The fabric for my new summer dress was laid out, though, and she kept neat, so she hadn’t gone far.  On a different day I would have slunk in and ran a hand over the fabric, tried to guess what it would look like when it was finished because Meagan never let me see until she was done, but not today.  Today, there was a more important matter at hand. 

            Someone was giving away a box of kittens over by the grocery store.  And I _really_ wanted a kitty.  

            “Meagan!”  I shut the door as fast as I could without slamming it, running down the hall and ducking into her bedroom.  The bed was neat, so she wasn’t feeling bad and napping… 

            _Oh yeah, she was going to get her hair done today, wasn’t she?_   I raced back down the stairs and into the far corner of the house, only to find the little salon was empty…  Sandra was sweeping up hair, though, so the hairdresser had come and gone.  The maid smiled at me.  “You’re all flushed, baby, what’s all the excitement about?” 

            I grinned at her.  “Kittens!  Have you see Meagan?”  _I swear, if she’s gone out to town and I missed her I’m going to **die**._  

            The blonde woman laughed delightedly.  “Kittens, huh?  She’s up in the library visiting with someone.” 

            “Thanks!”  I dashed back out of the room to the stairs again, across the top floor to the other set of stairs that led to the observatory and library.  I wasn’t so hasty to just burst into the room if she had company, though; I stopped at the mirror near the door and smoothed my pleated school skirt, checked to make sure my shirt was tucked in, my tie straight.  My hair was all a mess from running so I yanked off my cap and ran my fingers through it.  It was as red as it had ever been, but Meagan had said I could let it grow out this year if I wanted.  I was eleven years old, not a little girl anymore; I was going to look like a real lady, which meant the chin length hair had to go.  It just reached my collar, now, and I took the time to re-clip my barrettes that kept it all out of my face.  If I embarrassed my governess in front of company there was no _way_ she’d let me have a cat. 

            Deciding I was as ready as I was going to get, I offered my reflection a grin and gently opened the door, slipped in.  I could hear talking but couldn’t see them, so they had to be over in the armchairs by the window that overlooked the city.  It was a man’s voice, and I took a moment to listen before coming up on them, since they didn’t seem to have noticed my entrance.  Manners were all very well and good, but Mom always said that knowledge was more valuable than gold, and after all, it wasn’t bad manners to eavesdrop if they didn’t notice. 

            “Now that we have Vulkanus, we have to move before Peacecraft suspects,” he declared.  His voice was old, a little raspy.  “There’s a very small window of time available for us to achieve independence from OZ before we find ourselves surrounded by his army.  Vulkanus can only make so many enough dolls without it being noticeable, and we’ve gathered our army.  I will be taking Mariemaia home the moment she arrives.” 

            I frowned at that.  _Take me home?  I **am** home…_   At the same time though, I could feel my heart quickening its pace.  I didn’t understand any of the stuff about mobile dolls, but…  _Am I going to get to live with Mom?_   Forget the kitten, I’d take my mother over a stupid cat any day.  I only got to see her a couple times a year, but she’d always promised that I could stay with her once she finished with school.  She hadn’t done it when it happened, but Meagan had said it was because someone had died, that my mom needed time to cope… though I hadn’t believed it until New Year’s came and that sad look had never left her eyes, even when she was laughing. 

            “Are you sure it has to be now?” Meagan asked tentatively.  “I haven’t had any time to warn her, and she has yet to pack… it’s a very big change for such a young girl.” 

            “Of course we have time to pack her things,” he scoffed. 

            Now seemed like a good time to make a bit of noise opening the door, and I shut it again quickly before scampering forward.  “Hello,” I told the old man breezily before focusing on Meagan; if I didn’t give them a reason for me to be excited, they might suspect I had been listening.  “They’re giving away kittens out in front of Keagan’s.” 

            “Kittens?”  The old man asked warmly, and I turned my attention back to him.  “You want a kitten, eh?” 

            “I’m old enough to take care of one,” I informed him proudly.  Looking back to Meagan, I added, “Kaitlyn got one.” 

            The woman who had always taken care of me shook her head.  “Not today, Marie.”  She moved aside and gestured to our guest.  “This is your grandfather, Dekim Barton.” 

            I felt my eyes go wide at that.  I had always heard about my grandfather, from other people, but I honestly knew nothing about him.  Mother had always told me that he was to be treated with the utmost respect, even if her look was sour half the time she said it.  I almost wanted to curtsy, but I was one of his heirs; that couldn’t be appropriate… 

            He solved the problem of how I should respond by walking toward me and bending down slightly so we were eye to eye, holding out a hand for me to shake.  I took it and he smiled.  “My, how you’ve grown, Mariemaia.  Would you care to help me do something very important?” 

            My breath caught.  _Me?  Something important?_   Mom had told me before that my grandfather was ashamed of us, of how young she had been when she had me.  He hadn’t liked who my father was, though no one had told me who that had been.  Uncle Trowa had said at Easter a few years ago that it wouldn’t matter anymore, but then he had died, and nothing had changed.  I still couldn’t live with Mom even though other people in her school kept their children, and neither of us could use the Barton name.  But maybe my uncle had been right, and the plans he talked about hadn’t gone right before…  Maybe they just got delayed, what with how the gundams went rogue. 

            …My Grandpa _wanted_ me.  “Of course I will help you however I can,” I told him easily, pleased with how rich my voice was, how smooth I kept my face.  “Just let me pack my things.”  If he was willing to look at me, to take me with him, I wasn’t going to mess this up. 

            I was going to make him _proud_. 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium**

            _Twelfth Barracks._   Relena stepped smartly into the building and looked around before spotting someone who might be able to help her.  She wasn’t going to go back _in_ to the barracks themselves because men might be changing back there, and he was unlikely to be sleeping anyhow while he was retraining.  It was only a moment before the man her eyes had settled on noticed her. 

            “Miss Peacecraft,” he greeted, surprised but not displeased.  “What can I do for you?” 

            “I’m looking for Jake Miller,” she admitted.  “He’s here, isn’t he?” 

            “Eh, well, he’s _sleeping_ here…”  He scratched at the back of his head, seeming to think. 

            It was really tempting to just throw up her hands and be done with it.  At the same time, though, she had come this far already.  “I thought he was training,” she noted.  “Is he just due back by a certain time then?”  She would have assumed, with as many soldiers as were around her now, that he’d be back, but maybe he was working with another squad? 

            “Well, he’s kinda just freelancing it, so he’s keeping to his own schedule.  He’s usually running around this time of day, but he might have gone on to something else…  He’s high up enough that he doesn’t really answer to anyone.” 

             “Really?”  She knew that Jake had been a member of the Specials to rival her brother in some aspects because Milliardo had told her as much, but not having a superior officer was a bit… excessive. 

            “Well, the colonel answers to Mr. Peacecraft, of course, but he changes divisions all the time, something of a lone wolf; so far as I can tell, it’s rare that he’s responsible for anyone besides himself.” 

            She blinked at the man; the insignia on the lapels of his open jacket said he was a Major, last name Reiker.  “Have you known him long, then?”  She also hadn’t realized Jake was ranked as a _colonel_.  He had seemed too laid back, too… well, freelance, as Reiker had said, for that high of rank.  _He’s the same rank as Mitchell?_  

            The major shook his head.  “No, I just looked into it once I kept seeing him in and out of here and realized how hardcore he was.” 

            “Hardcore?” 

            “He came in here two weeks ago, and he’s been just… going.  He wasn’t in bad shape when he showed up, but…”  Reiker shook his head.  “I mean, I guess you have to have that kind of drive to be a jack-of-all-trades like that, but-”  He seemed to cut off what he was going to say after a quick glance at her and finished with, “I can’t keep _up_ with that routine.” 

            She wasn’t sure she really believed that.  Reiker’s dog tags hung on a bare, heavily muscled chest, and he was tall; she would imagine that he was similarly muscled elsewhere.  This was the kind of man that made her feel tiny and powerless.  “I’m sure he’s just been training up to it,” she countered.  “He’s been sitting at a desk for the past year.” 

            Reiker snorted.  “No disrespect meant, but he can’t have been _just_ sitting at a desk for that long.  There’s a reason they call them the _Specials_ ; they require a wholly different level of discipline.” 

            Relena shook her head a little.  “Lieutenant Colonel Catalonia was teasing him about being scrawny a few weeks ago.” 

            Another soldier laughed.  “He can’t _lift_ for shit, but he’s _fast_.” 

            Reiker laughed.  “Yeah…”  Focusing back on Relena he explained, “I’ve literally watched him run eight miles straight.” 

            “That’s probably what he’s doing right now,” muttered the man who’d commented about Jake not being able to lift weights.  He was sitting on a bench, unlacing his boots.  “That or sparring…  Especially if Dave’s off today.” 

            “David Mitchell?” she asked, perking up at the familiar name.  “He wasn’t at his desk earlier.” 

            The man shrugged, settling back against the wall.  “Then I’d bet they’re horsin’ around, they’re close.  Mitchell used to be in the Specials too, learned most of his hand-to-hand in there; that’s probably why they still like to spar.” 

            “Yeah, Kushov, I’m out kicking ass while you sit back and tell stories about me,” came a voice from across the building. 

            The second man, Kuchov, laughed and quickly tightened his laces, tucking the ends into the top of his boot.  “Yeah, you know, spreading rumors.” 

            Jake cackled, but he was still not within her line of sight.  “Good things, right?” 

            “Yeah, about how I could kick your pansy a-ah,” he glanced guiltily at Relena, “butt.” 

            She snorted softly at that; as if it hadn’t been _obvious_.  Jake, meanwhile was having a similar reaction.  “Sure you are, come here and prove it.” 

            His friend laughed more, standing.  “You come here.” 

            “No, the sergeant’ll have my head if I drip water all over the main, you come here.” 

            “Finish drying off and put some clothes on then!” 

            His voice was all mock indignity.  “Oh, I’m man enough to beat you down in my towel, bring it!” 

            Reiker choked slightly, giving Relena an apologetic look before winking at her and calling, “Oi, Jacob, you’ve got a girl here to see you.” 

            “Tell Nelson he needs to stop it with his dress-up routine.” 

            Another soldier, presumably Nelson, started laughing naughtily.  “But didn’t you notice?  I put them in your drawer!” 

            “Huh, I thought my shirts looked a little long…” 

            “I bet you look better as a chick,” Kushov added, half creeping over to where the calls were coming from, making a ‘shh’ gesture at Reiker and Relena, his eyes sparkling. 

            She really was just amused by all their antics; after the initial shock of Jake’s words had settled, it really was funny. 

            “Yeah, I’d look kinda like your sister, eh?” 

            She choked on that one, though. 

            “If you manage to be that pretty, I’ll disown you,” Kuchov returned easily, sidling in close to the door. 

            Jake finally appeared then, dashing out of a different door in a pair of dark pants, whirling up a towel and whipping it hard at Kuchov before running over towards them… and stopping dead when he saw the princess.  She barely managed to not burst out laughing, keeping it at a smirk and waving at him slightly.  Kuchov came lunging after him and he dodged, somehow managing to throw him into the wall with the same movement – without even _looking_ at him – before focusing back on Relena and starting to chuckle a bit guiltily, his cheeks going red.  “Um… hi.” 

            She laughed a little too, feeling her own flush rise back up.  His hair was still dripping, and his bare chest was just as well-defined as Reiker’s.  “Hi.” 

            “…I’m going to go put a shirt on and then we can head back up to the main, alright?” 

            She nodded a bit.  “That sounds good; I was wanting too get your opinion on something.” 

            “Alright, just a minute then.”  He ducked back into the door he’d come out of. 

            Well, it probably really hadn’t been worth it, but she _had_ found him… and she was going to get his opinion on the fund proposal.  _That’s enough, I suppose._  

-

***

-

**June 9 th 197 – Friday – Amsterdam, Netherlands – Ritafore Hospital**

            “You look tired.” 

            Chaos turned to smile at Melissa as she came down the hall.  “I didn’t feel like walking home yet.”  Motioning at a doorway, he added “They’re in there, but unless she asks for me I’m done hearing her in pain.” 

            His friend bit her lip, then shook her head a little.  “Luc was just dripping with happiness earlier, he can finish what he started.  I’ve got Father Espen’s van, though; when he heard that Sin kept you up all day fussing over little contractions he said I could come get you.” 

            He stood and pulled her into a hug, just grinning when she squeaked in surprise.  “You’re my hero,” he decided, resting a fair amount of his weight on her.  “I thought I was going to have to crash in one of these plastic chairs…” 

            The Dutch girl giggled, pulling away… and he turned so he could lean across her shoulders as they walked.  She laughed harder, shifting her own weight to balance.  “You’re not _that_ bad!” she protested. 

            “Mm, you should carry me,” he returned, grinning madly. 

            “Oh, should I really?”  She continued to trudge forward without shoving him off, though.  “What happened to Mr. ‘I-can-handle-anything’?” 

            “It got old?”  He laughed more, resting his head on her shoulder.  She was tall enough that it wasn’t _too_ hard to do, but it couldn’t be the least bit comfortable either.  “You smell nice.” 

            She snorted.  “I smell like an ashtray.” 

            “Mm, only a little bit,” he argued, holding up his thumb and forefinger for emphasis. 

            She shook her head a little, trying to shove him off again as people actually came down the hallway.  The hospital was fairly deserted at this wee hour of the morning, but giving people the impression that Chaos was _high_ was probably one of the less smart ideas they could go through with. 

            He couldn’t seem to care less, though, and in response he put all his weight on her and only took some of it back when they were about to hit the wall. 

            “Oh my _God_!” Melissa exclaimed, leaning back _in_ to him.  “I do _not_ claim you!” 

            “You can’t do that,” he dismissed easily, though he was walking along with her now instead of making her drag him. 

            “Oh can’t I?” 

            “Nope.  I’m too loveable huggable.” 

            She stopped and gave him an incredulous look at that, only to have herself dragged forward as he took _her_ weight… and noticed the amused looks on the staff’s faces.  “You didn’t just say that.” 

            “Oh, but I did.” 

            “When was the last time you slept?” she demanded.

            “Um…  Wednesday morning?” 

            Considering the fact that he did manual labor from 11pm to 10am, Saturday though Wednesday, and they were entering Friday morning, that explained a lot.  He hadn’t slept Wednesday night because they’d been trying to fix an apartment complex’s plumbing and had lost track of time before he had to go to work, but she had assumed he had gotten _some_ sleep before Rina had started chasing him worriedly.  “No wonder you’re loopy,” she decided. 

            “Mm, I’ve done worse,” he admitted, practically snuggling with her as they walked.  “But it’s so nice to not _have_ to be alert when I’m this tired, you have no idea…” 

            She went quiet at that.  The idea was kinda scary… and sad.  He never wanted to talk about it, but he hinted enough that it was obvious that he’d led a hard life. 

            She had always been curious about him, interested, even, though she had presumed he was into guys before the Hilde girl had proven otherwise.  He just… hadn’t shown the slightest bit of that kind of interest in any female, it hadn’t been _that_ odd of an assumption.  It was actually really pleasant to have him so close to her now, so completely trusting with his person; she hadn’t been sure he would ever do that with her. 

            “You know what, Kay?” 

            “Hm?” 

            “You’re sweet,” she decided as they made their way through the parking lot. 

            “Okay.”  He was yawning.  “That’s good, right?” 

            “Not _everyone_ likes the assholes,” she agreed, grinning as she unlocked the passenger side of the van first. 

            “I can be an asshole,” he protested, blinking at the open door as though surprised he was already there.  “I’m good at it too.” 

            “I’m sure you are,” she returned, grinning.  She walked around to the other side and climbed in before finishing with, “I like it when you’re sweet though.” 

            “Like ice cream?” 

            He had this shit-eating grin, so she knew he was just screwing with her not actually _that_ out of it, so she grinned and corrected, “Like cotton candy.” 

            Chaos sniggered at that, looking thoughtful.  “Like… licorice?” 

            She blinked at that.  “Licorice?” 

            “I’ve never had cotton candy?” 

            _That just figures…_   “It…”  She wasn’t quite sure how to explain the flavor, actually.  Pulling out of her parking spot, she said, “It melts in your mouth.  Like divinity.” 

            “If it melts in your mouth wouldn’t that make me inconsistent or something?” 

            “That’s entirely _not_ the point… it’s…”  She snickered.  “It’s just sweet.” 

            He frowned at that.  “Chocolate’s sweet too,” he muttered by way of suggestion. 

            “But it tastes like stuff other than sweet,” she argued.  “It tastes like…” She laughed again.  “Like chocolate.” 

            He snorted at that and leaned over the space between the seats to rest his head on her shoulder again as they pulled out onto the main road.  “You’re silly.” 

            “ _I’m_ silly?” 

            “Mmhmm.”  He yawned.  “I’m tired, you don’t have an excuse.” 

            “I happen to have worked two full shifts today, thank you,” she returned easily, amused just the same.  “I’m very much looking forward to a bit of sleep.” 

            They continued like that for the ten minute ride back to the Den, and Gust said he’d take the van back to the church for her on their way back through the main of the den.  Chaos had decided that he needed to continue hanging off her like had through the hospital and actually even in the car, until she half dropped him down on his pallet in his room.  Well, she tried to drop him on his bed; really, they ended up laughing their asses off as they both tumbled to the floor. 

            “Oh my _God_ , you’re special,” she protested, smacking at him. 

            He made a half-hearted attempt to dodge, laughing harder.  “If I am, so are you.” 

            Melissa snorted and moved to stand, but he caught her around the waist and pulled her back.  “No, don’t go…” 

            “I want to sleep,” she told him frankly. 

            “Just stay a little bit,” he pleaded, his arms wrapped around her waist, head resting next to her leg.  “I don’t want to fall asleep alone, if it’s too quiet I’ll hear her screaming again…” 

            She blinked.  “It bothered you that bad?  It’s just one of those things, Kay, it’s not a big deal.” 

            “But she was _hurting_ ,” he protested, his voice quiet.  “And I couldn’t _do_ anything…  And even after Luc got there she wanted me to stay, and I just didn’t know what to _do_ …” 

            She moved to lay down next to him and he let go of her and shifted to one side so she had more room.  “Rina will be fine,” she reassured him. 

            He let out a deep breath.  “I know… I just…” 

            Melissa moved more into his arms, laying on one side and half hugging him.  “Women go through labor and are just fine every day.  And she won’t hold your not being able to magically make everything better against you.” 

            “That’s not the point,” he returned almost sullenly. 

            “You’re such a sweetheart,” she decided, burying her face in his chest.  She expected him to stiffen at the gesture, but he stayed relaxed… and it was just so very nice.  She’d been tempted to try cuddling up to him on the couch practically since he’d joined, she’d liked him the moment she saw him in Lancaster park the night they found him, but she’d never had the guts to do it… and here he had outright _asked_ her to stay until he fell asleep.  “One of the nicest people I’ve ever met,” she told him. 

            “I think that’s the best compliment I’ve ever gotten,” he returned amiably, shifting slightly so that her head rested on one of his arms, using his other to move the blankets into a more comfortable nest around them. 

            “I’m glad you came to us,” she went on to explain.  “I don’t care what it was that made you have to come someplace as bad as this city, about who you used to know or be…  I like you, I don’t care what any of them thought.” 

            He seemed to tense at that and she looked up to see a sort of shock on his face before he pulled her tight against him in a hug.  “That means a lot,” he whispered.  “Thank-you.” 

            “You don’t give yourself enough credit,” she dismissed, happy to be held.  He’d held her this tight before but hadn’t meant anything by it, and if that was the case now she wasn’t going to pursue it, but you never knew, he might start something.  Her heart was beating fast, she wondered if he could tell… 

            “I just…  I like to help,” he said after a minute.  “Part of it is that I want to make up for what I’ve done, but just…  I remember how hard it always was growing up… and I wish there’d been someone like me now to help things along.  People as old as we are now never cared on my colony.  I tried to look after my crew when I had one, but I was just a little kid, I didn’t know how to take care of _myself_ …”  His chest was moving in a shuddering sort of way so she held tight to him for a few seconds to try to calm it.  After a minute he calmed down and muttered, “And the Father took us in and it was all okay, but then after it all was burned down I was younger than Nolan, and there wasn’t anybody that gave a shit about me… not until I broke into a Sweeper ship for food and they were all impressed that I’d pulled it off so they decided to keep me.” 

            “Yeah?”  He was actually telling her about his past…  She’d told him she wanted to know and he was actually telling her.  She didn’t know if she could be any happier right now. 

            _Well, I **could** be, but that’s beside the point._  

            “I don’t remember any parents… don’t even really remember Solo taking me into his crew, I was just told that he had at one point.  All my early memories have him in them.  Luc reminds me a lot of him, just the way he looks after everyone.” 

            “You do it too,” she pointed out, yawning.  He was really warm…  “It’s one of the reasons you get on so well with Luc, you’re two of a kind.” 

            “Mm, maybe.”  He yawned too.  “I just do what I can, you know?” 

            She just made an agreeing sort of noise.  That was one of the things she liked so much about him, he was ready to give the shirt off his back without thinking he was really going that far out of his way.  He was so self-assured, so confident in his own ability that it really _wasn’t_ a big deal to him, which only made it better.  He was just… self-sufficient and he knew it.  He did what he had to do in any given situation without any wayward considerations for pride.  In that way, he reminded her of herself, the way she’d suddenly been separated from her little friends at school after her mother had died.  Chaos understood what it was like to be the stable point, the anchor, in other people’s lives.  He did it all the time for anyone who wanted or needed it, the same way she did for Nolan and most the girls in the Devils.  They were older than they really were… 

            She really hadn’t planned on sleeping there, but she didn’t exactly fight it when her eyes didn’t want to stay open anymore. 

-

***

-

**Treize’s hidden compound**

            Treize gently unrolled the negatives, holding them up to the light.  He had a light box that he used sometimes, but he wasn’t in his office right now, having strayed to a little nearby alcove.  Being dead, and for such a long time, had the tendency to cause a severe case of cabin fever.  His house arrest during the war had been nothing so remote as this, but all his efforts so far might crumble if he tried to move publicly.  Chance was really such a fickle creature… 

            He wished he could get these developed, but at the same time he didn’t like the idea of anyone recognizing who was in the photographs and then proceeding to wonder about who had gotten such casual pictures of Barton family members. 

            Playing dead was turning out to be the most frustrating time of his life. 

            These were old, from 193; Leia hadn’t sent anything during the war, and she must think him gone, now, so she would not have thought to try after _Libra_.  Then even if she had known better, she would have no way of getting anything else to him. 

            He didn’t regret the beyond classic ‘accident’ of his youth, only wished that he had known before Leia found him again in 188.  She’d simply vanished… only to show up three years later, introducing herself as if they were perfect strangers before meeting with him later during his stay on X-18999, bringing along the most darling toddler… and noting that Dekim would happily take the head of little Marie’s father, if he was ever found. 

            Part of the desire to overtake the Alliance had been fueled by a want to gain enough influence for the Barton Foundation to have to bend to his will.  But then two years before Operation Meteor had been attempted, they had vanished again.  He would have been able to _take_ them if he had to in all the chaos of what they were now starting to call the Eve War, but all traces of his would-be family had just _vanished_ …  Just like Leia had disappeared because, as he later found out, her family realized she was pregnant and wanted to minimize the embarrassment instead of facing up to the fact that their daughter wasn’t as naïve as they wished her to be. 

            He knew that it had been bad on more than one level, but… it just hadn’t seemed to _matter_ to either of them, and they had wanted to, so they did it…  If he had _known_ , he would have come forward and they would have handled it somehow. 

            He had never been able to decide if the version of history that change would have rewritten would have been better or worse than what they had lived through.  Leia was adamant that it would have meant the Khushrenadas mourned their young heir’s death by a mobile suit malfunction, but… it could have worked out differently than that. 

            He had been tempted to send someone out hunting for them after the conflict really started, especially with all the evidence that the Bartons were behind Operation Meteor, but then Trowa Barton certainly hadn’t been the person he had been expecting to give him a lead, and Zechs had been too concerned with his own issues… and becoming more closed to him by the day.  Une had been undyingly faithful, but considering her obsession with him, trying to make her find his once lover and child probably would have broken the woman more than a simple _reprimand_ had.  Noin had been too wrapped up in Milliardo’s business to call back to him without alerting the man who might be twisting himself into an enemy… and anyone else he trusted as well had been so deep in their previously assigned projects that trying to pull them out would have been lethal. 

            And considering the _original_ Operation Meteor plan that hadn’t been executed, which he had learned of after his ‘death’, his lack of full search for the Barton daughter might have allayed Dekim’s suspicions that he was the father, and been what kept the increasingly psychotic old man from using his own kin as hostage against certain actions OZ took against his empire.  He was relatively sure that the man’s suspicions were why he hadn’t heard from Leia for those two years before Meteor, with how thoroughly Dekim liked to control everything around him.  Leia had grown into a careful woman, and she wouldn’t risk exposure while she still lived under her father’s thumb; the old style film instead of digital memory chips had been because it would take more effort to obtain the final result, and they were so easy to destroy. 

            _But why can’t I **find** her?_   There should be records, for both of them, somewhere.  He didn’t want to consider the most obvious possibility.  Surely Dekim was more drawn to keep his family close, or safe; he had just tucked them away somewhere.  He would have needed a reason to kill his own kin. 

            …It was so hard to tell features when they were turquoise and shades of brown.  He couldn’t afford to get the negatives developed, though… and these were four _years_ old, Mariemaia might look entirely different now.  It wouldn’t make a good picture to use for any kind of search… 

            He had been through these thoughts again and again for the past few years.  He _did_ have someone working on it now, the _best_ , but eighteen months of finding nothing didn’t inspire hope.  It wasn’t healthy to stare at the negatives, he knew.  It wouldn’t make the two in them be any more easily found.  But memorizing names wasn’t healthy either, and sometimes this all felt so hopeless that he needed _something_ to keep driving him on.  He had a drawerfull of pictures and negatives, locks of hair and little trinkets… 

            “Your Excellency?  What are you looking at?” 

            “Evidence,” he told the man smoothly, rolling up the film and tucking it back into its container.  “A different case than yours, don’t worry.”  He smiled at him.  “What needs my attention, Lieutenant Colonel Sanchez?” 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to note that there are a great number of discrepancies in the manga Episode Zero and the Endless Waltz movie concerning the subject of Mariemaia. Instead of deciding that the creators of Gundam Wing made a typo here and there or had a really poor idea of the psychology/physicality of children, which is probably the true culprit, I decided to take what was in the show at actual value and came up with a convoluted family history that would work for the girl’s existence. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Note that:
> 
> \- Treize was 24 when the show starts.
> 
> \- Episode Zero shows Treize and Leia Barton meeting in 188, when he, at least, is 17. If this was his and Leia’s only meeting and a child resulted from something of a hot and heavy few nights in the hospital, which is the most popular theory, we start running into problems.
> 
> \- Mariemaia looks like she’s about to go into middle school in EW; this is a bit up to perspective, but I feel the need to note it. 
> 
> \- In EW, when the real Trowa Barton was showing the Trowa gundam pilot the picture of his sister and niece, Mariemaia, she’s obviously somewhere between the ages of 3 and 6. However, the picture is dated “May 189”. This is where the questions start, because even if Treize and Leia were getting it on immediately after meeting, Mariemaia would have been BORN around that date. Even if we fall into the common movie mistake of forgetting that a pregnancy takes about a year, she could only be one, which is still far too young to match the picture. 
> 
> \- Therefore, running on the conclusion that Mariemaia was right in noting that genetic tests proved she was a Khushrenada, Leia and Treize met long before that day young “Heero” put Treize in the hospital. Assuming that she’s as young as could be possible in that photograph, that still makes her two when Leia and Treize meet up in that hospital in 188, which means that Treize had to be FOURTEEN when the girl was conceived, and Leia had to be in a situation where she’s interested in that age group AND would have some similar haunts as a fourteen-year-old soldier boy. This leads me to conclude that she was about the same age. 
> 
> \- This is all made insanely funnier and more plausible because to quote Mariemaia in EW “I’m told there is an adult world that children can’t understand.” 
> 
> -  
> -
> 
> Anyone else have any thoughts on this? I mean... After dismissing the bad writing aspects and still forcing myself to piece mail it together, I just sat and giggled helplessly for God knows how long...
> 
> Additionally, for more clarification:
> 
> \- By canon's Endless Waltz in December 196, Mariemaia was 11, and for sake of emotional development, grabbed by grandad at 10 years old, the summer after fifth grade (if he didn't grab her in the spring), likely when she's still reeling first from her mom breaking her promise to take full custody because she's grieving over Treize, then her mother's untimely death, presumably after mom died in some sort of "accident". Because it seems pretty damn suspicious to me that the original Trowa Barton fixated on his niece as important, while completely disregarding the sister when he spoke to Nanashi. By this point, I would presume Leia has proven she won't budge on any of her standards. 
> 
> \- In Recast Timeline when we first see her here, she's a few months shy of 12, and grandpa's been scrambling too hard to counter Zechs' inroads against the colonies that he hasn't been able to scrape together his resources for a coup until now, and Leia similarly had more time to get herself settled outside of his reach, since he's lost as much power as he has. So Marie is a good 15-18 months older, she's annoyed with her mom but the status quo is more or less the way it's been for years now between them, and in terms of interpersonal and emotional development? Sixth grade is a pretty big year. If they haven't already, girls have a tendency to get /mean/ at 11, and at the same time they're being pressed with the pressure that they're grown up enough that they're supposed to handle themselves, instead of going to the adults. 
> 
> So... spoiler. You might appreciate how this goes.


	19. Golden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell the difference between a real, happy smile, and a fake? Does a joke in bad taste count the same as genuine delight? Everyone is either up in the clouds or intent on faking it until they make it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, as well as through 20 and 21, there have been updates to Adam, Mariemaia, and Treize's scenes to account for world-building that came later and left plot holes in this earlier part. There's nothing dramatic - no changes of plot. But there /are/ some differences in thought processing and motivation that add some length and give additional insight, tying in with the future developments a little more cleanly.

**-**

_**Golden** _

_**-** _

_**-** _

_**-** _

_**-** _

**June 22 nd 197 – Thursday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            Luc jostled the little girl gently, making her smile and gurgle happily, staring at him.  A quiet baby, really, but always happy… 

            She was _perfect_. 

            “Careful, you stare at her long enough she’ll up and disappear.” 

            “Uh huh,” he returned to Chaos’ quip, deciding not to pay him any mind. 

            “No, really, I’ll grab her just to get that stupid look off your face.” 

            Karina smacked at their friend, grinning.  “Don’t be an ass, he’s just saying bye before he heads to work.” 

            “I thought that was what he was doing ten minutes ago.” 

            “No, I just decided I wanted her then,” Luc explained, not looking away from his daughter. 

            His wife sniggered, and from the corner of his eye he could see her elbowing Kay conspiratorially, his friend leaning down so she could whisper in his ear.  He finally looked over at them with raised brows, and Chaos pretended not to notice, frowning in an over exaggerated way and muttering, “But Shov’s bike is so smoky…” 

            “Don’t you even _think_ of it,” he snapped, pointing a finger at them- to which they fell all over themselves laughing.  He eyed them for a moment; he was fairly sure they were joking, but… 

            _No, Kay’s not that reckless._   It was the kind of shit that Sin might have really considered, but she had only said it to get a rise out of him, and Kay was only playing along for the same reason.  At this point, they played at being siblings so well that most would be inclined to believe it. 

            Rina held out her arms, and he gently passed Renee over to her, because he really _did_ need to head to work, and the baby was probably hungry.  He kissed Sin and didn’t end it until she started to giggle, shoving at him with her free hand, and winked at her before ducking out the door of their room, heading down the hall and up the stairs into the main. 

            A few people waved and he waved back, finding his coat among all the ones hung up by the door and shrugging it on as he walked out the, pulling the zipper up to his neck as he trotted up the stairs, and realizing with delight that he didn’t need to actually wind the scarf he had hanging around his neck.  Actually, he could unzip his coat a little.  It still wasn’t at all what the end of June was _supposed_ to feel like, but it was a definite improvement on last summer. 

            The last two weeks seemed to have passed in a golden haze; bringing Karina and Renee home in the Father’s van, holding his daughter while she slept…  He knew he should worry about the fact that he hadn’t been called in to work as much lately, it was a foreboding sign, but he had had more time to take care of Renee so Rina could sleep more…  She had been so tired after the baby came, but she was starting to really do better now, and it wasn’t like they were wanting for help, but… she was _his_ daughter, he should be the one to take care of her the most outside of Karina.  He was going to be a _good_ father. 

            He couldn’t help but smile at the Polaroid pictures of his baby up on the bulletin board at work.  It didn’t matter what happened… it was going to be a good day. 

-

***

-

**Minsk, Belarus**

            Adam took in a deep breath of the crisp morning air, feeling more hopeful than he had in a while.  It was one thing to know your own plans and how they would forward the world situation, another entirely to know someone else was actually covering a problem area you couldn’t touch.  Relena Peacecraft had negotiated a deal with China and the first heat amplifiers were being put together that very morning.  It would be a while before they got enough to install them in the cities, because crops were a priority, but if Europe could feed itself, so much stress on the global scale would just vanish. 

            They were far enough away from Treize’s men that he felt safe outside in the morning murk, at least from the rooftop he was on.  Soon he’d feel safe enough to break away from Chang again and let the man make his own way to the rebel headquarters.  He hadn’t lied when he said he respected Po’s space; hopefully she would respect his in return.  Before he parted ways with his new friend he wanted to trade emails.  Then he would have a foothold there, albeit a small one.  He didn’t think he would be able to get more than a closed-mouthed contact within her faction.  He might be able to get more with Treize’s with some further effort, but he didn’t think the pros outweighed the cons, at least not yet. 

            He liked both groups; he could even see himself joining one of them eventually.  For now, though, choosing seemed… ill-advised.  Both leaders were careful, but thus far oblivious of each other’s actions, and he didn’t have any interest in being around when they fixed that.  Po and Khushrenada didn’t have a great history; he’d rather get involved _after_ they settled their differences. 

            For now, his current allegiance simply to the cause itself was fine. 

            Barton was moving, though the specifics were still vague; he’d found a wireless connection for his laptop an hour ago and seen the information from the sinkhole he had long taken advantage of in the Peacecraft Regime’s security.  The weak point had flowered neatly into existence after some careful pressing, enough that he was sure he was _not_ the first to use that back door.  It was beautifully hidden, practically a work of art; enough so that he was genuinely curious to know who had done it. 

            He had never been terribly affluent in that particular world, unfortunately, so he had little chance of finding out, but what were wishes for, anyway? 

            Security problems aside, Marquise had a fairly sound information network but no one on the inside of the relevant sector of the Barton Foundation just yet; the business end surveillance showed he was plotting, but General Lee wouldn’t want to move until he had the particulars.  He’d have time to react, so long as he kept checking in regularly. 

            …But what could Dekim Barton want?  Operation Meteor was as good as complete with the fallout from _Libra_ ; it didn’t matter that it hadn’t been a colony dropped.  Of course, it was the Peacecrafts in charge, but the old Lightning Count was nearly buckling under the strain of trying to keep the planet _alive_ , so if Dekim really wanted dominance over Earth, why not wait until the crisis period was over?  Surely he had the funding…  Didn’t he?  How much money _was_ Zechs choking out of the colonies? 

            Maybe it was time to go back out to space and take a look. 

            “I found some coffee.” 

            Adam jumped hard, narrowing his eyes at his companion.  He had this smirk that was almost nonexistent, but there nonetheless. 

            _He actually snuck up on me._   It had been a while since that had happened.  Really, though, he should have expected it.  Rolling his eyes in a sort of defeat, he took the offered cup and sipped.  It was an awful brew, but it was impossible to find any other kind, these days.  It helped with the cold, though, and this far north and inland it really was miserable.  They had been traveling together long enough that he knew Chang would have gotten hot cocoa for him if he had been able to find it, but most of the chocolate production in the universe had been based out of South America, which had been effectively removed from the map, courtesy of Milliardo Peacecraft. 

            Was it bad that he was more annoyed by that than he actually was about the world situation?  Not in any realistic way, but in the manner of how much it affected him, he certainly missed real chocolate more than he did the Alliance.  It was the simple pleasures of life that he enjoyed, not overreaching goals. 

            His self-assigned mission to overthrow Zechs Marquise was really a break in the mold. 

            “We should take the train to Moscow,” he decided, looking to his watch; it was due to leave in a little over two hours, and they were close.  He was fairly sure he’d shaken their tail, but it would be best if they went east and laid low for a couple weeks to make sure their scent had gone as cold as the weather.  He could get enough money to keep them fed there while they huddled in the group homes, wearing layer upon layer of clothes so they weren’t recognizable.  “Stay there long enough for my hair to grow out some and I can color it…  Do something about yours.” 

            “I would look retarded with it anything but black,” he returned acerbically, gulping his own coffee with a grimace.  “And we already cut it.” 

            That was true, on both counts; his Asian appearance would make any other color obviously unnatural, and it was in a more common male cut now instead of the ponytail.  Still, Adam didn’t like how stable his looks were; hiding was much harder when you couldn’t play chameleon.  He had never really had to change his appearance before _Libra_ crashed, but he had known how, if the need had risen. 

            “I’ll stand out even more that far north,” he added. 

            “And it will stay in everyone’s mind that we _wanted_ to go where it’s colder,” Adam finished.  “Point.”  He really _was_ tired, wasn’t he?  On the other hand…  “We should say we’re looking for family up there to bring down, then mix in with the refugees getting on, so they think we stowed away and go looking for us up there.” 

            “Then head west fast.” 

            “Not too fast,” Adam argued.  “We don’t want Peacecraft spotting you either.” 

            The other man just snorted into his coffee as he began chugging it… and Adam frowned before doing the same.  Getting it over with was probably a good idea. 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium**

            “I can’t believe it went through so fast,” Relena murmured for what felt like the millionth time. 

            Dorothy chuckled; she had come into the princess’s office to see if she had had lunch yet, to find her going through the actual materials of what they needed in order to push through the militia.  The approval for the proposal had come back two days after it had been sent, though with a request for more detail.  Considering how the amplifier project had just truly begun today, they were going to put off releasing the news until it was ready to be started; it would reinforce the fact that _action_ was being taken, not just talk.   “You were _selected_ remember?” she reminded.  “You’re the only one with an active project too; the fund has money going elsewhere, but nothing else that it’s directing itself.  Whenever a manager or project is selected, all resources go to it; _Peacemillion_ only took two months to build.” 

            The other girl bit her lip.  “I remember my father saying it was unique, but this is almost _surreal_ …  Nothing moves this fast, it has to be approved by too many people…” 

            The responses _were_ coming at lightning speed – when you were talking politics, anyhow.  “You didn’t research it?” 

            “There’s nothing _to_ research,” she returned, chewing on the end of her pen.  “It’s young to start with, and management has always been outsourced to those closer to the problem being addressed.  There’s no names listed as belonging to it _anywhere_.” 

            “Mm, some old miser decided he wanted to do some good in the world after years of not paying his taxes and doesn’t want to have to face the hypocrisy,” Dorothy decided.  “You remind him of your mother, who he had a crush on when she was a young debutante before she married King Peacecraft, and he’s looking for an heir to leave his fortune to.” 

            “Do you believe any of that or do you really waste that much effort conjuring up dramatic stories?” asked Relena dryly. 

            “It’s feasible,” Dorothy defended, offering her friend a hurt look.  Sniffing, she added, “And that didn’t take any effort; I just made it up now.” 

            Relena rolled her eyes, though she was smirking slightly.  “Of course, I’m sorry, my mistake.” 

            Dorothy grinned back at her, moving to half sit on one some desk space to the side of the area Relena was actually working at.  “What does RLTT stand for again?” 

            “The R.L. Tomorrow Today Fund, officially.  I asked what the R.L. stood for, and he said it was ‘Rhea Lowe’, but he doesn’t care to elaborate more than that.” 

            The lieutenant colonel shrugged, considering.  “Maybe _he_ is really a _she_ , and it’s her name, and she’s trying to look modest.”  When Relena gave her a level look, she smiled sweetly and added, “And she’s a major fan of yours and wants to have your babies.”  When she only continued to receive a level look, she decided, “Three boys and a girl.” 

            “You _do_ realize that you _did_ grow up and are a key member in a major political party, representing this Regime with your every word and action?” 

            Instead of gracing that with a response, she protested, “I thought you liked children!” 

            Relena stared at her a moment longer, then shook her head, turning back to her paperwork.  “Fine, but you’re raising them.” 

            She laughed delightedly; she really hadn’t expected to have her play along.  “Marvelous, the oldest has to be named Heero.” 

            “Sure,” the princess retorted blandly, scribbling away at her notes.  “Make sure they eat their vegetables.”  She pursed her lips.  “I think we should include some healthcare benefits… and I need to go ask Jason what jobs we really _need_ people to fill; maybe we can spin it for free training for contracted work down the line.” 

            “That should be in a separate proposal, shouldn’t it?” 

            “Yes, but I want it to be able to interlock with this… it’s going to be the foundation of any other social reform I try.” 

            That sounded like a very good idea, yet incredibly daunting; overall, it was very much not her kind of thing, and she knew it.  “I’m hungry,” she noted instead. 

            “You eat like a boy,” Relena tossed back, not looking up from her papers. 

            “A healthy boy,” Dorothy agreed.  “We should go get food.”  The last thing they needed was the people thinking they didn’t have enough food to keep their own princess from fainting on the runway… 

            Well, stage, rather. 

            Podium? 

            Throne. 

            ...In public, anyway. 

            Her friend sighed and stood.  “I suppose you’ll do something drastic if I don’t come with you.”  A smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth removed any barb the statement might have had. 

            Shrugging, Dorothy just said, “You need a break.” 

            Shaking her head a little, Relena gestured toward the door.  “You worry too much.  Lead the way.” 

-

***

-

**Babruysk, Belarus**

            Ivan smiled a little to himself, sipping at his tea.  On the big public screens for the square hung an image of Relena Peacecraft, explaining the details of the amplifier project.  He had had a shitty day so far; his mark had managed to vanish _again_ and he wasn’t sure why… but this was good news.  He was standing in a crowd of people pushing and jostling at each other but all staring avidly up at the screen. 

            So strange, really, that a little girl had all their attention.  Relena was far more than just a little girl, though.  She had been through the thick of the wars, but still hadn’t gone and given up on mankind.  He knew for a fact that she had been out of contact with the world purely on Milliardo Peacecraft’s orders and had only come back six months ago… yet she was already making this much progress.  There was one question that he knew had to be running through the mind of almost everyone watching, though:

            Did that say how exceptional she was, or how inept the government? 

            He was inclined to believe the former, but couldn’t exactly disagree with the latter, either; a mixture of the two seemed more likely.  It could also be that the timing had just worked out to be as it was, and nothing more.  There had only been ghosts of rumors about a way to heat the crops, at least as far east as he worked.  China was… really far away.  It seemed surreal that a place _closer_ to ground zero would be better off than them. 

            He was just waiting for reports back from his men right now, but he wasn’t really expecting anything, if he was honest.  Time was almost up anyhow, and he’d be heading home with or without the prize he’d come hunting for.  Treize wouldn’t be pleased, but he understood the circumstances.  Just a few more days, and he’d be heading home… 

            Deciding that he had learned all he was going to from the vid, he turned and started working his way through the crowd.  He had managed to _lose_ the damn gizmo Kris had slipped in his bag, so he needed to find another one just like it before he headed back.  Stupid thing, he hadn’t bothered to figure out what it was beyond having more than one function before it had friggin’ disappeared.  Some kid had probably found it and it was now a prized possession, so it was okay, but his wife would be upset that he hadn’t appreciated the thought she put into it.  Though really, if she’d put a _lot_ of thought into it, she would have gotten something his tech-savvy twelve-year-old wouldn’t have to write a tutorial for him on.  She _wouldn’t_ appreciate that thought process, however, so it was better to just go with it; maybe he’d even read the instruction manual before he got back so she thought he’d actually played with it before deciding he didn’t want it. 

            _Mm, that looks promising._   Some teenager was shelling the packaging on a handheld game in front of the electronics store that had caught his attention.  He shook his head a little.  _Kids… he should be watching the screen in the square, not some game._   He’d catch on to the real world soon enough, though; everyone took their own time.  He muttered a greeting at the boy as he opened the door, but the punk didn’t even acknowledge him. 

            Ivan rolled his eyes, heading over to where cameras were set up.  _Doesn’t it figure?_   One kid was warming the world back up, another couldn’t care less…  And he knew it was unreasonable, but on some level he was glad that it was the girl who had her priorities straight; he had three little girls.  Maybe they would turn out a little like Relena Peacecraft. 

-

***

-

            Heero had to force himself _not_ to stiffen when his mark actually _talked_ to him, and he pretended not to hear.  He was fairly sure his face hadn’t been seen… 

            _Is it normal to greet a complete stranger?_   That was just _weird_ , but it was something to keep in mind.  If it was, why hadn’t he noticed it before?  It was fine if there was some sort of business involved, but saying ‘good morning’ to someone who might not even speak the language was… invasive. 

            He pulled his PlayPaq out and put the game already in it in the new casing, then slipped the new game in.  He hadn’t been planning on starting it yet, but he was curious as to what Alekseev wanted in the store – and since he had been seen opening it, it seemed as good a tactic as any.  He could still hear Relena’s speech just fine, though the door’s electronic bleat that was meant to notify the owner of a customer had thrown his hearing off… 

            Actually, he was curious.  He switched the function on the little machine over to pick up the broadcast and smiled.  Tucked away in this little alcove with a clear view was so much better than being in a crowd that made him feel like a sardine stacked in a tin.  He used crowds for many things, but enjoyment was not one of them. 

            _She’s beautiful._

            Relena had always been pretty, but when he had met her it had seemed like it was almost in an overtried sort of way, stiff; then when she had been made Queen, it had been overdone in a different way.  She had been too… fantastic, as if she belonged in a storybook.  Her face had been too young for the finery to look serious.  But now? 

            Her hair was up in some kind of twist, her make-up minimal, simple diamond studs in her ears.  He couldn’t see past her clavicles because of how the camera was positioned, but she looked to be wearing some kind of suit, like any businesswoman might have on.  By her face alone one might guess her to be nineteen or twenty instead of seventeen, and she had certainly hadn’t looked any older than her age during the war.  There was a weight in her eyes that hadn’t been there before; the determination, stubbornness, that he had admired before had transformed into something closer to wisdom.  The fortitude was still there, but there was something… _more_. 

            She was radiant, proud in a way that he hadn’t really ever seen.  She _knew_ she deserved her position now, while before she had always had that shadow of doubt she had hidden behind bravado.  If her ideals hadn’t contrasted so sharply to what she was capable of, no one would have ever known before, but this almost golden haze that seemed to shimmer off of her now?  He hadn’t known that that was what was missing. 

            _Relena…_   He felt himself smile a little sadly.  It just had to be the way of things that the moment he started to understand what it was about her that he wanted for himself, she skipped ahead of him again.  Now he had to understand how to find _this_ kind of happiness…  Only now, when he thought he might be able to ask her what it was, she was entirely out of reach. 

            _Mm, that’s the kind of thought that would have made Quatre stare at me._   They had talked about a great number of things during those months they traveled together, but their conversations often had a tendency to end with the blonde giving him a surprised and sad sort of look.  He understood that the other pilot had been convinced that he was missing out on some vital component of life, but pursuing the subject had continually proven nothing but a way to lead the blonde into deeper depression.  He’d learned what sort of thought processing led to that mood in his friend and had avoided voicing it… but in turn, that meant he hadn’t been able to make much progress on them until after the other pilot had vanished. 

            Hopefully the lack of progress until after they were separated wouldn’t depress Quatre, should they ever meet again.  That… well, it certainly wouldn’t be fair to him, considering the fact that it had been Heero’s own choice, but he knew him well enough to realize that Quatre might take it personally.  It was sad, really.  Less sad than the other pilot never finding out that he had begun to unravel the mystery, but still upsetting. 

            This also seemed to be the kind of processing that upset his friend, however, so that hardly got him anywhere.  It would probably be best to wonder about it another time, when he didn’t have to watch his surroundings so closely. 

            _Relena…  Would she be the same?_   He frowned.  _She probably wouldn’t worry so much as Quatre._   But…  _Essentially the same._   It didn’t really bother him, but it just seemed odd, somehow, in much the same way Silvia Noventa’s calling him a coward had been, after he’d offered her his gun. 

            … _Silvia and Relena probably would have gotten along._   The revelation surprised him on some level, but not in the sense that it was true…. More that it had not occurred to him how before now.  Then again, Dorothy Catalonia was decidedly just as odd, was nothing at all like the other two, and yet word was that she was Relena’s constant companion now.  Not that he and Quatre hadn’t made an odd pair, but there were far more commonalities between them than the women, or at least he had thought so.  Of course, it could also be a lack of options, but that hardly seemed like something Relena would consent to.  He would readily admit to hardly knowing her now, but he doubted her personality had changed so much as that. 

            He just couldn’t see Relena Darlian choosing insubstantial pleasure over what she considered her duty.  Or even extreme pleasure; but that was for behind closed doors, and hardly consequential to the matter at hand in any case. 

            He shut the Pak and slipped it into his bag, moving back into the crowd; it wouldn’t do to still be in the same spot when Alekseev exited.  There was a certain schedule to things, however, so he took out his recorder and unraveled his headphones; the update would come in soon, and they were close enough that he wanted the feed live.  Overall, today was looking to be good; he might even catch up before night fell.  His mark was apparently bored, to be heading into that kind of store, which suggested complacency. 

            Heero focused on the man as he exited, looking for the label on the box he was opening… and felt himself go cold.  It was the same device his ear buds were currently plugged into. 

            He had gone over the recordings from the time he had spent with Dasha as soon as he’d caught back up; they had been regular, nothing outside of routine, and it was unlikely that anything had been omitted.  He quickly checked through the rest of its audio functions: no new files downloaded. Maybe he hadn’t discovered that aspect of the contraption? 

            _Surely he would be taking more precautions if he had realized I was here._   It seemed bizarre, however, that he could notice his toy without following the fact of its presence to the logical conclusion that _something_ , at least, was wrong.  If he had found something foreign in his own pack, Heero would have discarded everything that might be traceable and started over from scratch.  Frowning, he checked the other functions. 

            _…He took **pictures**?_   It was stupid sightseeing things too, monuments and skylines, even a couple that he must have had someone take of himself in front of something.  Heero stared in consternation.  **_Why_** _would you do **that**?_   The man was _strange_ , giving away his position every place.  What if the device had actually been his and he’d been pick-pocketed?  Someone would be able to trace his entire route!  It was careless, not even factoring in the fact that he had never _packed_ his new camera, and- 

            _…He can’t be **that** absent-minded._   Did he really think he might have actually packed it?  _Did I put something in his bag that he has at home?_   That would be strangely coincidental, but not impossible; it was a popular machine.  _Does he think he lost it?_   It was still careless enough that Heero would immediately fire the man if he had been under _his_ employ, but he supposed the situation was conceivable. 

            If his enemy really was that incompetent, then this really _was_ going to be a good day. 

-

***

-

**L3-X18999**

            I fingered the collar of the uniform, biting the inside of my cheek.  It was amazingly cool, in an exciting sort of way.  It was a little simple – I would have gone for something more elegant – but my grandfather had a point in noting that the majority of our army was male.  Despite how odd it looked on me, it was grandiose, powerful… 

            I frowned, moving over to the chair to take up the coat and hat I had also been offered.  They certainly made up for the lack of beauty in the military uniform, and I smirked self assuredly at myself in the mirror, crossing my arms and shifting so that the cape swayed.  This could work… 

            …At the same time, though, Grandfather hadn’t said anything about my mother yet.  I wasn’t sure exactly how lightly I had to step with the man who had only started to want me for the first time in my life just a few days ago; his subordinates seemed to upset him quickly, without much provocation.  Sure, he was doting on me for everyone to see, but… 

            I looked back into the mirror and into the desperate expression I already knew was there.  _He’s parading me around.  Maybe it helps make up for everything but…_   It seemed more like when my would-be rival back at school got a new pin or barrette that had been expensive, and she wore it around for a couple weeks, boasting, before the thing was never seen again.  Of course, Amelia was shallow, but… 

            _Why couldn’t he have let Meagan come with me?_   I was alone here…  And it was awesome, and Grandfather had the right idea, the Peacecrafts ought to keep to their own damn business and out of ours, but… 

            They had covered in school how bad off Earth was.  Crap, I had been the one to organize the boxes we had kept in every classroom for canned goods to send down; there had been a couple shipments already.  I had lectured the household for days until I had them buying a couple things to send every time they ran out to the store. 

            But then I’d been too wrapped up in kitten persuasion and Grandfather to remember the can of whole kernel corn in the bottom of my knapsack that I had gotten when we ran into Keagan’s for candy after school, while waiting for Kaitlyn’s mom to get there and help pick out one of the cats.  It was staring at me through the fabric of my bed’s underskirt, its home for the past few days.  Grandfather might think me decidedly odd if I kept it in a more prominent place like my nightstand, but keeping it out of sight just made me feel worse. 

            Mom had been so proud when she heard about the cans.  Snd really, I knew she would hardly be upset with me for _one_ can I had forgotten about when I got caught up in excitement, but… 

            It just… 

            I fingered the fabric of my cloak, not really sure what else to do, but the fabric felt so nice, you just wanted to pet it. 

            …I really wanted to call my mom.  I’d settle happily for Meagan, the woman really _was_ a mom in a lot of ways, but it had always been that she took care of me, and Mom that gave me advice.  Meagan made sure I ate right and got to bed on time, and I just played and talked with my mother; the cool stuff, while Meagan handled the day to day.  In the past few years we had gotten in the habit of calling and talking for over an hour every couple days, or at least once a week.  It had become more sparse just after the war ended, when _Libra_ crashed and Mom got really depressed because someone had died, but… 

            My mother had never cared much about too many people in specific, outside her patients.  So maybe it had been my father, who died in the Fall.  But every time I thought to ask, she already looked so sad, and, well… if he was gone, it didn’t really matter anyway, so why make her hurt all over again? 

            I hated it, when I was the reason she got sad. 

            I half wondered whether Grandfather was interested in me _because_ my father was dead, but didn’t my mother having been not quite fifteen when I was born still stand?  Uncle Trowa had never seemed upset with my mom, and had always adored me as far back as my memory went, but Grandfather hadn’t wanted anything to do with us.  He hadn’t let us live in the same city while Mom went to school, even, because she had wanted to keep the Barton name and I was an embarrassment; he didn’t want my existence to be public, he had _never_ wanted me before…  So why now? 

            Obviously he had changed his mind…  But as much as I wanted it to be because he had realized he made a mistake?  He never seemed to _see_ me, even though I was almost constantly with him this past week.  He didn’t do anything but _patronize_ me… and that hurt. 

            I really wanted to call Mom.  The number had always just been programmed into the phone at home, though, so I didn’t know it…  and a sick feeling in my stomach told me that Grandfather didn’t have my mother on speed dial. 

            I sighed, biting back the sudden urge to cry, and stripped out of the uniform, laying out the outfit for tomorrow on the chair in my room.  I had been given the new clothes just today, and tomorrow would be the first day I wore them; I’d just wanted to see how it looked before I slept.  I’d thought, maybe it was just nerves, and a little dress-up would give me my confidence back. 

            I just felt _worse_. 

            Pulling my pajamas back on, I washed my face and brushed my teeth even though I hadn’t been told to.  That would have excited me a year ago, that I was trusted to take good care of myself without reminders.  But really?   

            _Nobody here cares, do they?_  

            _No, that’s not true.  I’m just overthinking it._   I smiled into the mirror after I spit out the toothpaste, then scowled when it looked weak.  I closed my eyes and tried again, opening them a moment later. 

            _Better, but still no good._   So I stood there, trying until I got it right, because I _was_ happy.  I was just tired, and homesick, and I didn’t want Grandfather to think I didn’t appreciate everything he was doing for me.  Even if he wasn’t impressed with me yet, I was going to make him realize I was worth ten of my Uncle Trowa.  I’d prove that I wasn’t just what was left over that something had to be done with.  I was going to do better than he thought I might in his wildest dreams, and he was going to wait to let me see my mother until I made her so proud she just cried and hugged me tight, and we’d all live together and everything would be alright. 

            As I crawled into bed, though, I couldn’t quite quash the little voice that said Grandfather wouldn’t notice if my smile was fake.  I knew it was true… but it was okay.  I smiled fiercely as I reached out and turned off the lamp by my bed that had been casting a dim yellow glow around the suite.  

            I was going to _make_ him care. 

-

***

-

**June 23 rd 197 – Friday – Amsterdam, Netherlands – Pub**

            Chaos noted Melissa stepping back into the kitchen as he came in the door and smiled slightly, moving up to an empty spot at the bar.  Relena was on the TV.  She’d been on the TV all day, so it wasn’t exactly news, but… 

            Well, the little princess just looked so… grown up.  He smirked.  _Wonder what Heero’d say._   The other pilot had been _obsessed_ with Relena, though the guy would probably never admit it. 

            Melissa gave him an arch look as she flipped to a new sheet on her pad.  “Can I get you anything?” 

            He grinned.  “Cider?  When are you off?” 

            “Trying to pick me up?” she returned playfully, tapping his nose with her pen.  “You’re going to have to try harder than that.” 

            Duo felt his smirk widen as he leaned forward with what he hoped was at least a vaguely seductive look, getting her to grin back raucously and also lean forward so he could whisper, “…I want an order of fries, too.” 

            She made an amused sort of noise, thwapping him with her notepad, before rolling her eyes and writing down the cider and fries.  “You’re annoying.” 

            He sniggered as she sauntered back to the kitchen, looking back to the screen and making a face.  Relena was one thing, but _Dorothy_?  Ugh, the eyebrows actually looked like they were under control; she’d either grown into them like Treize, or had managed to stop emphasizing them somehow, but still.  Dorothy was a whack job.  She was right up there with Mr. Let’s-drop-a-battleship-on-Earth. 

            Well, no, she wasn’t quite the same brand of crazy, she was more in line with Treize, which made sense with them being related and all.  He certainly felt no need to ever go near the blonde again, but she wasn’t so bad that she couldn’t pass for normal.  Someone who seriously considered mass murder, though, outright genocide?  That was beyond reproach. 

            He was really going to laugh if Relena fixed a leash around the two of them as good as she had Heero, though. 

            “What’re you thinking about?” Melissa asked curiously, handing him his cider and setting the fries down on the bar, taking one for herself.  She wasn’t wearing her apron anymore, and she was on his side, so presumably she was off. 

            “Blondes are crazy,” he adlibbed, grinning at her amused expression.  “Well,” he gestured at the screen; he hadn’t meant Relena.  “Real blondes, not the half brown kind.” 

            “I think the term is ‘honey blonde,’ for her,” Melissa noted. 

            He gave her a dubious look.  “Honey?  What, are you part of her fanclub?” 

            She tsked at him.  “That’s the _term_ , Kay.  Hailey’s a honey blonde too.” 

            Hailey was the name of one of the other waitresses… and come to think of it, she and Relena _did_ have about the same hair color.  Giving her a confounded sort of look as he picked up his drink, he asked, “Do girls have a name for _everything_?” 

            She giggled cutely and smacked at his arm, and he grinned back at her.  Melissa in general was just cute… Karina was absolutely gorgeous, every man’s fantasy kind of thing, and there was no holding a candle up to that flame, but ‘Liss was the sweet girl next door, she just made you feel comfortable… and seemingly everything about her was soft and darling, somehow without seeming childish. 

            And despite that, she could kick all the boys’ asses.  Not his specifically, but they hadn’t been stupid the night he met them, they’d expected a fight in that park, and Melissa had pointedly been in the group sent out.  Hilde had beat her without any problems when they tussled for fun, but Hilde had risen up to close to his own level of training, somehow; the next time he saw his old friend, she might actually be able to take him down. 

            He hadn’t asked who had been teaching her, it wasn’t his business anymore.  He’d admit to some curiosity, though.  There weren’t too many people with that much skill and time, and he knew for a fact that the five who had been responsible for he and the other gundam pilots’ training were dead. 

            At least someone of that skill level was with Po’s people, he supposed, and not Zechs’. 

            “Are _you_ part of her fanclub?” Melissa asked teasingly, waving a hand in front of his eyes; he’d been staring at the screen while lost in his thoughts. 

            Duo laughed at that, turning to face his friend properly.  “No, Shov’s the fanboy, remember?” 

            “He’s very specifically Hilde Schbeiker’s fanboy,” Melissa corrected mock primly, reaching over and tugging at his ponytail in something akin to a tweak.  “You’re allowed to be sweet on a princess if you want, don’t be shy.” 

            He really _did_ laugh at that one.  _Relena? **Hell** no!_   “She’s a little too proper, if it’s all the same.”  _And annoying, for all that she means well._   He tilted his head at her curiously.  “You’re off now, right?” 

            “Mmhmm,” she agreed happily, taking the cider from him to drink from the cup herself.  “I was just about to head out, and there you showed up; why’d you come here?” 

            Saying that he was worried about her walking alone, despite Luc having suggested he go for that reason, would make her mad; she was capable of taking care of herself.  On the other hand, he’d been half considering the idea since she mentioned she was going to be switching to swing shifts a few weeks back, and she probably suspected why he was there already.  She could handle herself, but it wasn’t fair for anyone to have to walk in the dark alone… and she’d done that yesterday anyhow.  She hadn’t been alone when they found him back at the end of September, and she didn’t need to be now. 

            “I like the service,” he told her, grinning broadly as he took his drink back. 

            “Do you really?” she asked sweetly, smirking at him.  “Or is Lucas pretending I’m his little sister again?” 

            He blinked at that.  “What?” 

            She sighed.  “He sent Shov out here last night, you realize.” 

            Well… that made him feel marginally better about forgetting what day she was starting this shift.  “I didn’t know that.  I thought you said you got off at nine, so I figured I’d catch a bite before work.”  She eyed him in a lazily suspicious way, eating another fry as if attempting to wait him out.  “Well, I already ate dinner, but seriously, I know the fries here are good, you’ve brought me some before.” 

            She rolled her eyes and turned to lean against the bar, though that touch of amusement that had yet to completely fade away became stronger.  “Uh-huh.” 

            He rolled his eyes right back and leaned against the bar like she was.  “You’re being obstinate.” 

            “I suppose you won’t mind if I stay here until you head out to your shift, then?”  She laughed delightedly when he whipped around to glare at her before realizing it.  _Damnit…_   She rested her weight against him, still laughing slightly, and patted at his arm to reassure him.  “I’m teasing, come on…”  She winked up at him.  “I’ll let you walk me home if you really want to that bad.” 

            He growled and dug for his wallet.  “It’s not a crime to worry, you know.” 

            She snorted and shoved his wallet back.  “I get as much as you ordered for free.”  Her eyes sparkled.  “And that depends on the brand of feminist you talk to.” 

            He sniggered at that one as she danced ahead of him, smacking at her ass.  “Oh yeah, huh?” 

            She laughed naughtily and he ducked away as she darted back to smack at _his_ ass, then laughed a little more and moved quickly over to where her coat was; their actions had not gone entirely unnoticed, and this really wasn’t the place to horse around.  He shook his head a little in amusement to avoid the people looking at him, waiting for her to wind her scarf and come back towards him before he started heading in the direction of the door. 

            “It’s getting warmer,” she told him excitedly as she pulled her stocking cap on. 

            “Ha ha,” he returned in a monotone.  Everyone had been saying as much for the past week, but somehow he just couldn’t make himself believe them. 

            That was apparently just as amusing as he’d meant it to be… but after a moment she sighed and held onto his arm.  “I really am glad you’re walking me home, for the record.” 

            Duo blinked, noting that for future reference; he should always be able to walk her home, as long as he worked for Tate.  But… she seemed almost upset.  “Why?” 

            “Just…”  She bit one lip, then shook her head a little, smiling up at him.  “It’s nothing.”  She bumped her hip against his.  “Thanks, though.” 

            He considered that for a moment… then decided to let it lie and bumped her back, smiling.  “No problem.” 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium**

            Exactly why it was a _yellow_ button, he wasn’t sure. 

            Really, wasn’t it universal panic button law that it was supposed to be red? 

            Then again, it was probably bad that after a couple months of guard duty, he still found the color choice amusing.  Rolling his eyes at his own oddities, Hayden Polanski picked up his book again and put his feet on the console… being very careful to not hit that yellow button. 

            It was comically set away from the rest… though really it made sense, considering how obnoxious it would be if hit on accident.  Logic would say that that should mean it was set _higher_ on the board than on the part that could be counted as a desk, but at the same time, you wanted to be able to reach it if injured…  It might be smart to set it under the counter like they did at banks for the silent alarms that tellers could hit…  but since this was somewhere people sat at, then he might be liable to kick it. 

            _Maybe it’s supposed to make it less tempting to just **push** it._   He grinned at that idea.  Setting the entire compound on code red… yellow… would be an incredibly psychotic event, especially seeing as their princess was now in residence.  He would also be incredibly fired, and he had good pay, away from all the action.  Sure, guard duty could get boring… 

            But that was why he brought a book to work. 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**


	20. Pride and Commitment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pride is largely a matter of perception. Commitment really isn't much different, in either the gain of it, or the loss; but it's important to remember than what you percieve is only a part of the equation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, as well as 19 and 21, there have been updates to Adam, Mariemaia, and Treize's scenes to account for world-building that came later and left plot holes in this earlier part. There's nothing dramatic - no changes of plot. But there /are/ some differences in thought processing and motivation that add some length and give additional insight, tying in with the future developments a little more cleanly.

**-**

**_Pride & Commitment _ **

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**June 24 th 197 – Saturday – Brussels, Belgium**

            “It’s all so fast,” Relena muttered worriedly, picking at her papers. 

            “You say it like it’s a bad thing,” Jake returned, sounding amused and crossing his arms. 

            “It’s not _normal_ ,” she protested, not looking up. 

            “ _You’re_ not normal.”  She rolled her eyes and gave him a look.  He only smiled back sweetly. 

            They had slowly been becoming better friends, even while he had gone into retraining… and she certainly had to admit that he looked good in an official uniform instead of his old jeans and t-shirt.  He had officially been declared fit for duty yesterday – which was when she found out that the post he had been “getting back in shape for” was her bodyguard. 

            If she had been shy about him before, she was outright abashed now. 

            He quirked a brow at her expression.  “What?” 

            When she had asked Milliardo about it, her brother had admitted that Jake was one of the few people he trusted wholeheartedly enough to safely escort his sister anywhere… and he really did mean _anywhere_.  The men had trained together, and while Jake had mentioned it more in passing than anything, Milliardo had made it clear that while he had gone into mobile suits, Jacob Miller had become deeply involved in more… _direct_ … forms of fighting.  There was more to it than that, but she hadn’t tried to pry. 

            He had also told her that Jake had _asked_ for this particular assignment. 

            “Why did you want to guard me?” she asked bluntly.  She had tried thinking of a better way to go about it, but nothing else seemed sufficient. 

            He blinked at her.  “You’re going to be changing everything, you realize?  You’re important.” 

            “That’s not an answer,” she returned coolly, turning back to her work to hide a rising blush. 

            “Ah… I care?”  His tone suggested he was grabbing at possible answers that might appease her.  “I trust me,” he added a bit more solidly.  “I thought you wanted to go down to the people’s level and actually get your hands dirty, and I know I can handle myself well enough that we can keep that at a minimum guard, if I’m in charge.” 

            “What about your old work?”  Her cheeks were getting hotter, instead of calming… 

            He paused, picking up the undercurrents of an issue here, but was only quiet for a for a minute before softly, “Relena… I really wasn’t _doing_ much of anything.”  His hand touched her shoulder and she jumped slightly.  _When did he come so close?_   “Do you really not want me to guard you?” 

            Her face was going _numb_.  “I just don’t understand why you _want_ to,” she whispered, closing her eyes.  Why was this so _hard_?  Why was it that he set her into such a damn _fluster_ all the time? 

            …That was really the core of the problem.  She had gotten to the point where she could admit to the little crush she had on the soldier, and he _really_ didn’t need to know about it.  It was silly and she knew it, just something to laugh over… 

            She really didn’t want him to think less of her for having such an inappropriate reaction to him.  Especially after her brother had begun to suggest that Jake would make a better guard than _himself_.  She had such respect for him… and she really didn’t want him to lose his respect for _her_. 

            “I’m sorry,” he muttered in that same soft voice.  “I suppose I should have asked.  We just seemed to get along well enough, so I assumed…” 

            She took a deep breath.  “It’s not that.  I just don’t see why you’re so interested.” 

            He paused again at that, his grip on her shoulders going more hesitant.  When he spoke again, his voice held a twinge of confusion, disbelief.  “How could I _not_ be?” 

            When she didn’t immediately respond, he stepped away from her, then to the side, so he could see her face.  “Relena, I’ve been helping you organize this…  Did you think I was bullshitting you?”  He scrubbed a hand through his hair.  “I wasn’t.  You have good ideas: I want to see them happen.  I want to make _sure_ they happen, and part of that is going to be keeping you safe.”  His voice picked up a little, earnestness flooding it.  “I can still crunch numbers if you don’t want to let the cat out of the bag until you’ve got a plan, I can run ideas and scenarios…”  He held his arms out wide.  “I _know_ everyone, I have strings I can pull if you ever want something done quickly…”  He made a slight face.  “And not to be offensive, but I’m more reliable than Dorothy.” 

            “I don’t doubt any of that,” she told him fiercely, angry with herself; this was _not_ how this conversation was supposed to be going.  She was about to start crying. 

            “Then don’t doubt _me_ ,” he returned in that soft, soothing voice again, stepping forward and taking her hands.  “I’m here to help…  I wouldn’t be if I didn’t want to be.  If it makes you feel better, this isn’t the first time I’ve committed to projects this big.  I know what I’m diving into.”  He sighed.  “But in all honesty, you need to calm down and figure out how to handle this because I am _not_ going to be the last person to stand behind you and your goals.” 

            She couldn’t help but chuckle a little at that, then a little more as he wiped away the tear that had started rolling down one cheek.  “I must seem really silly now,” she muttered, pulling her hands away to wipe at her face.  _At least the door is shut._  

            “Not at all.”  His usual grin was back… and somehow, it reminded her of Duo.  He tapped her on the nose gently.  “If you didn’t do something like this once in a while I’d start worrying that an actual meltdown was in the making.  Just don’t do it too often or it’ll stop mattering so much and you’ll turn into Catalonia.”  She started laughing a bit more, so he added, “Eyebrows and all.” 

            “There’s nothing wrong with the eyebrows,” she tried to insist, as she always did, but it came out a bit more giggly than she’d meant it to. 

            “Nothing at all,” he agreed, still grinning.  “Come on, I was a Special, Treize was my _god_ for however many years.” 

            Managing to turn a laugh into more of a scoff, she retorted, “Yes, I’m sure he was.” 

            “You don’t believe me?  You need to hear a prayer?” 

            She snickered harder; for all his professing at being better than Dorothy, he certainly had a similar sense of humor. 

            “Alright, fine.  Dear Excellency on high, I-” 

            She doubled over laughing outright.  It seemed that maybe life would be more jovial with the man in constant company, at any rate.  And it might do wonders for learning to keep a straight face. 

-

***

-

**Minsk, Belarus**

            “Stay to ground,” Adam muttered as he shouldered his pack.  “Use the route I gave you, it should keep you off Treize’s radar…  And if you value your life, don’t do anything _stupid_.” 

            “Thank-you, mother,” the other man sneered.  “Do you need to check my bag to make sure I packed underwear?” 

            Adam smirked a little at that, and held out his hand to shake; this was good-bye, after all. 

            Chang looked annoyed, but he took the hand, just as Adam had known he would.  After all, he had proven himself a worthy ally, and for all of their bickering over the past weeks, there was a mutual respect.  “Where are you going?” he asked after a moment. 

            Adam considered whether he wanted to answer.  On some level his friend deserved an answer; he’d told him he would go as far as Warsaw, and this was Minsk; they weren’t even in Poland yet. 

            The problem with keeping a finger in everything instead of committing wholeheartedly to an organization was that there was only one of him to handle emergencies.  The Barton issue looked easy on the surface, but something about it kept bothering him; something missing that made him want to move.  _Instinct, or subconscious?_  

            He needed to go. 

            Hopefully his new friend had _learned_ something in the past few weeks; his pride wouldn’t count for much if he was dead.  In the end of the day, though, Chang was old enough to… 

            _A girl._   That was what he’d forgotten.  M something.  A pretty puppet for the new world order.  Was she involved? 

            He was positive that had never been anywhere on paper – would anyone even know to look in the first place? 

            But while he likely owed Chang something for running out on him like this, Po hardly needed to know he had anything to do with what was about to happen with the child that had been selected to rule Earth, had Operation Meteor gone as planned.  “Worry about where you’re going,” he suggested instead, smiling pleasantly at Chang’s irritation.  “I may have helped you, but my business is hardly yours.” 

            “Tch.”  His scowl certainly hadn’t changed any.  “I’ll see you again sometime, though?” 

            “So long as you don’t get yourself killed,” he returned easily, though he was momentarily surprised by another glare; that phrase really hadn’t been engineered to make him more upset.  _Of course it would, though, with that attitude,_ Adam reminded himself absently, somewhat amused by the self-righteous anger in any case.  It was simple logic, really… but he would admit that the wording hadn’t been thought out. 

            Enough was enough though.  He twitched his hand in farewell and moved away, disappearing down the alley into a different one, then into a street, making sure he was quickly lost in the crowd. 

            _She might not be involved,_ he reminded himself as he took another street at random, dipping his head just enough to stay off most traffic cams without looking suspicious.  _It only came up once, and it’s been two years.  Plans change._  

            But she was just a girl.  What could it hurt to make sure? 

            _Time to do something a little more dangerous._

-

***

-

**Babruysk, Belarus**

            Heero frowned, considering. 

            _Moscow._

            They had been seen by one of Treize’s men, and the conductor had remembered them.  It was confirmed, but Alekseev was heading home, someone else was going to replace him as some of his his men followed up to Moscow until they could be replaced again.  They were worried that Chang was intending to get lost in the homeless crowds up there. 

            _Moscow?_  

            There couldn’t be a safe house in Moscow…  Po might have people up there, but it would be too costly to keep a _safe house_ there.  Then again, Treize didn’t know that Wufei was headed for a safe house specifically, just that he was running from them… 

            _He would be **stranded** in Moscow._  

            The logical conclusion was that he _wasn’t_ in Moscow… which suggested it was time to stop letting someone else do his work for him. 

            Wufei and his friend had last been seen getting on the train in Minsk; would he move south again, or north?  He might take the train west…  But he still needed to stay in big towns to blend in and he couldn’t think that the Moscow trail would stay hot for too long, so he would want to move fast while he had the advantage.  He and his companion, whoever it was, must have been sighted on purpose; they had been too careful up until now for that big of a slip.  He would never have done it; he wasn’t sure why Treize thought a gundam pilot might make such an err, but that was hardly his problem. 

            They had evaded the net enough that they had to have realized the searchers were spread out with someone near the center getting reports and sending orders.  So maybe they would wait to move until they were sure the Moscow trail had been taken?  It would make sense to stay in Minsk for at least a couple days; it was a big city, easy to hide in.  They could recuperate for a few days then set out fresh in some non-eastern direction. 

            It was what he would do, anyhow. 

            It had already been two days; they would definitely be gone by tomorrow afternoon, but he had bought a train ticket to Minsk earlier, when he thought Alekseev was heading there next.  It left in just under fifteen minutes – he’d be there before nightfall.  Even if they had already left before he found where they had slept, the trail ought to be fresh enough that he could follow and finally catch up within the week. 

            He smiled a little to himself as he settled into his seat, pulling his bad leg up to his chest so he could work on the muscles in it.  It had been a good day.  Dr. Srona had worried that he would never be able to ever run again… but he had managed a brisk jog today.  It had worn him out, sure, but it hadn’t to a degree that he would worry about more damage.  He didn’t want to try sprinting yet, but he figured he was probably capable of it, if the need arose. 

            It was unlikely he’d ever regain his old endurance… but he bet that he might get just as fast; maybe by next spring, if not winter. 

            _That_ reassurance…  Having that changed everything.  Even if he completely lost the trail on Wufei… it was okay.  He would be himself again. 

            And he would be able to do _anything_ again. 

-

***

-

**June 25 th 197 – Sunday – L3-X18999**

            I fought to not breathe hard, not to let the sudden fear and uncertainty I felt show.  This was… was merely a curiosity, another excitement… 

            But there were so _many_ of them. 

            Grandfather spoke half apologetically about the number, about how it was only a fraction of what the Peacecraft Regime could produce… and I felt a shiver run down my spine at his tone. 

            These men, standing at attention in perfect formation… the uniform helped the image, but they weren’t _toys_.  My thumb brushed against the stiff fabric of my shorts, and butterflies set loose through my stomach.  _I’m wearing the same thing…_  

            “Mariemaia?” 

            “They’ll do,” I announced cordially, moving forward as if to focus on them more.  The two of us stood up on a balcony of sorts overlooking the troops… the _people_ …  I draped a hand over the railing as Grandfather moved up behind me.  “How many did you say, again?”  _Do I look like them, right now?_   I resisted the urge to touch my cape to reassure myself; it was such a little difference… 

            He continued to talk about them as if they were my latest bauble, and I responded as seemed appropriate.  I didn’t like his voice – he was patronizing me.  I really wasn’t stupid… but he would be upset if I didn’t see things his way.  That much was clear from his reaction when soldiers brought news he wasn’t particularly fond of.  I didn’t think I could stand it if he spoke like that to me… because then this dream would end, and everything my mother had always said would be true. 

            I ought to have refused to come.  Made a huge fuss – purposely make myself look so childish as to be absolutely impossible to handle without Meagan.  My pride would have smarted, but this man might have lost interest in me. 

            I wanted to make him happy…  But I also didn’t want to be miserable.  What was it Mr. Beiber had liked to say?  That all it took for evil to prevail was for good people to not do anything?  My social science teacher had usually then started to talk about Treize Khushrenada stepping up in the middle of the Alliance’s corruption to make a means to topple the Romefeller Foundation, and about how true to character it was that he had risen to defend Earth when White Fang threatened it.  He liked to talk about how unfortunate it was that the best heroes of an age tended to die defending their ideals… 

            …I seriously doubted my grandfather was willing to die for anything.  While of course that didn’t make him _evil_ , soldiers had to carry that ideal, so all these men had that kind of commitment to this… and didn’t we owe it back?  Wasn’t that why Treize Khushrenada had _led_ his men into battle? 

            My heart started to race.  I didn’t want to die for _anyone_.  It didn’t matter if that was cowardly; I didn’t care enough about this to lead it.  _Crap, I’m not even **twelve**!  What am **I** supposed to be able to do?_   My stomach lurched.  I didn’t know half of what was going on and I knew it.  Grandfather knew it.  It was the same way I still couldn’t remember what his first name was, or how he had never asked if I preferred to be called Marie. 

            Grandfather wasn’t committed to _any_ of this… 

            …not even me. 

            I clenched my teeth together; I was going to throw up, I knew it.  More than anything I missed the household who all cared for me whenever I felt badly…  I wanted my mother like when she used to stay at the manor in the summertime and we’d play together, where she would sit and read to me up in the atrium while I worked on the latch hook kit Meagan had gotten for me.  I wanted to sit next to her on the couch as she told me funny stories, or even just over the phone again.  She might have been far away, but Mom had explained the politics I saw on the news so I could understand almost every night during the war. 

            “Grandfather?” I whispered, hope half caught in my throat.  “I feel ill.” 

            “Ah, well, we’ll retire, then,” he told me genially, waving down at the crowd and tapping my shoulder blade so I did the same before sweeping around and heading for the exit.  I managed to make it into the connecting hall before I lost control, falling to my hands and knees to heave, but at least all those poor men didn’t see it.  There was all of my breakfast… 

            “Are you alright?” he seemed more… curious… than he ought to be. 

            “Just anxiety, I think,” I mumbled.  “They were all looking at me…”  In truth, I had never had any form of stage fright.  Meagan would have called me a liar right to my face… but then, I wouldn’t have tried that one on Meagan.        

            I would not have had to. 

            “Ah, natural enough.”  He motioned at our accompanying guard.  “Get this cleaned up.  Mariemaia?  Perhaps you would like to return to your room, clean up a little?” 

            “I need to brush my teeth,” I agreed shakily, standing up and grimacing at the mess.  “And change my shirt.” 

            “Of course.  When you finish, I’m sure you will be able to find me.”  And with that he simply… left.  Meagan would have followed me or at least made a note of finding something I might stomach better to replace the food I had just lost; she never let me go hungry, whether I wanted to or not.  I almost missed the regimen of vitamins she had shoved at me every morning for as long as I could remember. 

            I apologized to the men summoning a maid and they seemed friendly enough, one of them offering to escort me to my room.  I almost refused, but seeing the glint of actual concern in his eyes, I changed my mind, thanking him instead. 

            “It’s alright,” he soothed as we walked.  “It’s a common enough reaction.  I think even your father had a dislike of crowds.  He almost always had someone else speak for him, or he did his speeches through a vid screen.  I could be wrong, I’ve always thought it would make sense.” 

            _My father?_   It took everything I had to not stop dead in my tracks and stare at the man.  He had known my _father_.  Some part of me wanted to jump on him and demand he tell me what he knew, to speak so familiarly…  But another sick twist of logic stopped me. 

            Grandfather would not be so careless as to put a man near me that would speak so casually of a man he abhorred.  No one was acting as though it were a secret, however, which meant that Grandfather knew… and had decided not to tell me.  If I made a fuss here, he would hear about it. 

            Though he had at least confirmed one thing; past tense. 

            “Ah, yes.”  I agreed solemnly as we arrived at my suite  “I suppose he might have.” 

            Then again, Grandfather _lied_.  My mother would never breathe a word that might hurt me, and the secrets about my birth had always been about protection – he might have told these men _anyone_ was my father, and dead men couldn’t argue paternity. 

            I wanted to throw up again. 

-

***

-

**Spisska, Slovakia**

_-_

_Cathy,_

_I’m doing well enough; I hope you are as well.  I might visit soon… I’m not sure yet.  If I do, I’ll probably bring someone with me, so don’t be too surprised (not that you ever were).  I’ll write you again soon, and it’s not a sure thing that I’m coming at all, so don’t try waiting up for me._

_Hope to see you soon._

_-_

 

            Catherine smiled at the cryptic e-mail, shaking her head.  Her little brother’s messages were always so sparse that one might wander what was the point behind even sending or receiving them, but the effort to keep in touch was enough.  He _did_ come home from time to time too, though he didn’t stay long; he was too worried that someone might recognize him, for all that that seemed doubtful.  There hadn’t been too many mainstream pictures of Trowa and he didn’t look much like them anymore in any case, but his continued amnesia made him uneasy about what he didn’t know. 

            Instead of worrying she went back to picking up her trailer, idly playing with idea of what he might have meant.  He was going to bring someone… a girlfriend that she could hassle, maybe?  She smiled at that; however entertaining, she doubted it.  Not impossible, but very unlikely just the same.  Maybe someone she would recognize, from his comment about when he had brought people home before?  Or it might be someone he wanted to know if _he_ ought to recognize.  His memories usually came back to some extent when he found a physical version of something he’d lost, but not always. 

            It was no use worrying about it.  He’d show up eventually and he’d talk to her… at least he talked more now, at least in person.  She’d find out what it was he’d been up to the past few months, and that was enough to look forward to.  The good thing about the amnesia was that he’d forgotten whatever had made him so eager to die.  He was cautious now, and the idea of leaving her alone was entirely foreign.  He sent his notes because he knew it kept her from worrying so much, and that was important to him not because she’d slap him, but _just_ because she would worry. 

            Things were far from perfect, but she thought that she liked this civil unrest more than the war, even if it was worse in a lot of ways. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “Another car?” 

            Melissa laughed at his dismayed look, leaning against the hood and smiling up at him.  “Cars are hot,” she confided. 

            Chaos grinned at that, shaking his head.  He’d always been proud of Deathscythe, but that had more been in line with its capabilities, not with how it looked, like ‘Liss was implying.  Well, unless you were talking about the stealth ability, but that was more _not_ seeing it than anything. 

            “They are, and I’ll prove it,” she protested, grinning as she shimmied up onto the hood and posed a bad car commercial.  Obviously just barely containing laughter, she asked, “Better?” 

            He crossed his arms and made a show of considering.  “You know, you might be on to something.” 

            She shook her head in amusement and slid back off, opening the driver’s side door to pop the hood.  “This is honestly just maintenance; her husband died in the wars, and we’re the cheapest for getting the oil changed.” 

            He grimaced a little, shoving the question of which faction the man had belonged to to the back of his mind.  It was better not to think about that. 

            “But once again it’s different from what you’re used to with suits, so you’d probably do better to just watch, so you can do it next time,” she explained as she worked her way back around to the front of the vehicle. 

            “It’s probably just a lot less complicated, you’re dealing with less G’s on the system,” he muttered as he moved after her. 

            It _did_ confuse him a little, but it was on the level that he could have worked it out on his own, given a half hour to look it over and think it through.  Melissa had obviously done it before though, and more than a few times.  She had a distinct finesse with cars, the same as he knew he did with suits… and that was nice.  She was confident, but not in the half obnoxious, ‘oh my God you’re going to get yourself _killed_ ’ way that Hilde’d always been. 

            “What are you staring at?” 

            And she was suddenly _right there_.  Inches away…  Though to be perfectly honest, they had been inches away from each other for the past half hour.  But she had on that half naughty but still sweet little smile of hers, which made it different… and backing away was a lot harder than it ought to be. 

            He licked his lips, trying to think as she tilted her head slightly in that curious way of hers.  Her lips looked soft. 

            _When did I start thinking about her like this?_   More than two seconds ago, he was sure… and yet… 

            He leaned down and met her lips with his, ignoring what might go wrong… and she was kissing him back, wrapping her hands in the front of his shirt.  They shifted so she was sitting on the front of the car; the hood was still up, but it sat high enough that she couldn’t hit her head on it.  His hands were around her waist, and he had always known she was small, but she just seemed so tiny in his arms like this.  She was hardly delicate, but Hilde hadn’t been either.  She smelled different… more of a gentle spice than like water. 

            He dropped his head on her shoulder, practically gasping; her hair tickled his nose.  _Was this a mistake?_   His whole body over was tingling, and he trusted Melissa, but he’d just _done_ that- 

            “God, Kay,” she breathed, nuzzling at his neck… and taking a deep breath, just as he was, he realized.  “I’ve been waiting for you to do that for _months._ ” 

            He laughed a little in disbelief, tasting the skin at the base of her neck just because he wanted to, listening to her breath catch and feeling her pulse tap against his tongue.  She’d been waiting for _him_?  It was just weird; he didn’t wait for practically anything.  _Or maybe I do…_   He had waited for Karina to make a choice about Luc or Cal, even if he’d prompted her to decide in the end.  He was waiting for someone else to take care of what all was happening in the world.  But at the same time, he had thought it would be years before he’d calm down enough to get a real job, and he had _two_ now. 

            _Is anything ever going to come out like I plan it?_   He been pretty sure he was going to have to kill Cal…  So sure that he wasn’t ready to get into a relationship anytime soon… 

            _Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to go like this._   He had more faith in God now, and for once, everything was okay.  Maybe it not being what he planned was just the way of things.  He smiled as he lifted his head to kiss ‘Liss again, then pulled away… and it felt _good_ when she made a protesting sort of noise at him.  “I don’t really want to be caught by the woman who hired us,” he noted quietly. 

            She flushed bright red at that and hopped back up to her feet, running her hands over herself as if to straighten up, only she didn’t look any more disheveled than she had before… and set to fiddling under the hood. 

            He smirked and went to pick up the tools they had used.  He had settled here more than he would have thought wise, before… but he didn’t _need_ to go anywhere either.  Back in September, he hadn’t really believed he’d make a real place for himself, even though that had been the plan.  He’d gone and done what he once told the Father he was scared to do, thinking it might put someone in his new family in danger.  But he was buried deep enough now that it didn’t seem to matter anymore…  

            And maybe he _did_ deserve to be happy. 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**


	21. One Dark Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When something starts to go wrong, it often has a way of snowballing. It's important to remember, however, that even failure can turn out well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This… got so heavily edited in July 2018. This is why authors shouldn’t be allowed rereads. A few chapters have had some minor scenes extended so far with this edit, but all of Marie’s scenes from 19, 20, and 21 have been shifted to show her character as she settled better as compared to the original framework I had before the more extensive world-building that came later. Treize’s scenes are also a bit altered, and there’s some grammatical stuff everywhere, but… yeah. Nothing is edited in terms of plot, but there’s a lot more perspective and snippets of world building in this version than there used to be.

**-**

_**One Dark Night** _

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

 

**July 6 th 197 – Thursday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “Kay!” 

            I turned around at Nicolaas’ call, frowning at the panic in his voice.  I’d been out all day running errands or doing jobs for seemingly the entire city since I’d gotten off my shift with Tate; I hadn’t even gone home.  A feeling of dread sank in my gut; Nic was a steady guy.  He didn’t act like this. 

            Something was wrong. 

            I jogged over to meet the boy halfway; he looked dead on his feet.  “What’s wrong?” 

            “Please tell me you’ve seen Rina today.”

            My stomach dropped like a rock.  _No…_   I had just been thinking last week…  “Not since last night.”  _This is a false alarm._   “I dropped her off at the church on my way to work.”  _But Luc knew, he was coming to pick her up later; he wouldn’t have everyone out searching._   And Nic wasn’t exactly everyone, but he was far from the first who would go out on a panicked hunt like this.  Still, I couldn’t help but demand, “You’ve gone to the Father, haven’t you?  He has to know where she is.” 

            _If he did, Nic wouldn’t be standing here like this._  

            The kid let out a despairing groan and fell into a crouch, trying to catch his breath and talk at the same time.  “He said he thought she went home herself.  That she disappeared, but she’d looked tired so he just assumed!  But then Luc came to get her and they realized the Sister had fallen asleep rocking Renee!” 

            _The church is neutral ground.  It’s right in between territories, but it’s **neutral** ground-_  

 

_-_

_“This is neutral ground.”_

_“So I’ll knock your ass out and carry you a few blocks first.”_

_-_

            _Wasn’t that what I said?_

 _Cal’s realized he got gypped and came for his revenge._   I hoped with every fiber of my being that the girl I’d come to think of as a sister wasn’t dead. 

            “Kay?” 

            I looked back at Nic; he was practically in tears.  I gripped his shoulder hard, looking away as I felt cold replace the ripping in my chest.  “You should have come found me at work,” I muttered, thinking fast.  “Who has the baby?” 

            “She’s back at the Den.  Anika and Harold are the ones really watching her, but Luc left Val in charge; he’s out looking.” 

            Luc had probably been out ever since he couldn’t find her last night.  I bit my lip; I had planned for this, once upon a time… expected it, almost.  “Nolan, Rueben?  Theresia, Tiede, Christiaan?”  They were the youngest in our crew, though I probably shouldn’t count Christiaan as one of our babies anymore – he was almost sixteen.  I focused back on Nicolaas – who was probably something like two years older than me, come to think of it.  “Find them and make sure they’re in the Den too.  Along with anyone who can’t hold their own.” 

            “Shov made sure of that already,” Nic dismissed, seeming to calm down a little.  “Luc’s just a mess.  Said something about Cal Slinger and I don’t know if anyone’s seen him since.” 

            _Shit…  Why the hell didn’t someone come get me from work?!_   Nic was looking to me for an explanation, though, and I grimaced.  “Rina was playing double for a while, back when Luc was worried Cal might go and try to kill somebody.”  _He might have, too, until I showed him I’d play hardball right back._   “When he found out she was really just playing lookie for Luc he got pissed off, but I made him back down.  We thought it was done with.”  Luc had implied that that was the story before, and he could fill in the holes from there; I was certainly an intimidating enough figure in this town.  Odd how that worked, that I was this great guy everybody liked and knew they could lean on, but I hadn’t lost the ability to become their worst nightmare. 

            I’d used up some of what I’d planned to have if I needed to go save Karina when we’d broken Hilde out… but I’d gone a little overkill in the planning anyhow.  It wasn’t in a succinct little pack anymore, but it wasn’t like I didn’t know how to strap and run.  “Get home; you look like you’re about to fall over.”  I ripped my ponytail holder out and let it sit around my wrist as I started tying my hair into a braid.  It was a habit I needed to get out of – though it wasn’t _really_ a habit anymore.  I hadn’t had my hair braided since I cut it off, just out of fear that someone would notice the similarity. 

            I was tired, though, hitting the thirty-hour mark on no sleep, and the tightness of the braid against my scalp was a comfort.  I still had some of the little explosives I could tuck away in weave, and I wanted everything I could keep on me, just in case.  I’d sprint for the Den; I needed to get my stuff.  I’d walk to the Slingers’ if I managed to lose my breath, but still, I hesitated a moment. 

            “Melissa’s out looking too?”  They’d scour every inch of the city Rina might have passed through before resorting to breaking into a building with thirty-some ex-soldiers.  They were a smart bunch. 

            The problem with being smart, though, is that you never get the idea that you could do the impossible.  And I was _good_ at beating the odds.  I had the devil’s own luck, didn’t I?  I didn’t want to be Shinigami anymore… but I’d keep his luck.  There were worse things to have in life. 

            “Yeah.” 

            I nodded, biting my lip.  ‘Liss could take care of herself, I knew that, but…  I guess I just wanted to know.  I smiled a little grimly at Nic as I tied off my hair… and started running. 

-

***

-

**Treize’s hidden compound**

            Treize looked up and offered a grim smile to the man who had just come into his rooms.  “Sanchez, good.  I need you to gather a contingent of fifteen or so of our best that are immediately available.  We need to jump the gun on Peacecraft’s people; we’re working off of their intelligence for this.  Tell Duncan that we’re headed for the L3 cluster, X-18999.” 

            The man nodded, but didn’t immediately turn to go.  Instead, he frowned at the way his commander was lacing up his boots.  “Sir?” 

            “We have word that Dekim Barton is attempting to break L3 away from the alliance Zechs walked him into, and word has it that he’s been using men who would be loyal to me if they knew I was alive.  We’re going to remedy that.” 

            Sanchez nodded a bit, but still waited.  Treize smiled a little; he’d chosen the man for a reason, after all.  Loyalty was a good thing, and necessary, but blind devotion wasn’t a good reason to promote a soldier to be his second – he had learned that the hard way.  If Noin had not been so set on teaching he would have promoted her instead of Une.  On some level, however, he had been relieved when the woman refused.  

            He suspected that a few more years of outright battle experience may have seen her surpass him, and then _he_ would have become the second. 

            He sighed a little as he pulled on his second boot.  They were off to get her, so the secrecy hardly mattered anymore.  “When I was young, I fell in love with Dekim’s daughter, Leia.  He realized his granddaughter was mine sometime during the wars, I believe, and now is using Marie’s lineage to garner support.  This is partly a rescue mission.”  He pulled his laces tight.  “The man neglected his own children enough, and now that I’ve found her, he’s not going to do the same thing to mine.” 

            Sanchez was silent for a moment, apparently digesting the new information… but only for a moment.  The next, he was nodding sharply and saluting.  “It will be an honor for you to accompany us, sir, and to meet your daughter.” 

            Treize smiled a little more at that, and gestured back at his desk.  “I have some pictures in the drawer there.  They’re old, but we don’t have time to develop the negatives Leia sent before the war; and I’m afraid I don’t have anything more recent than 193.  She’s just shy of twelve, now.  We might have to guess a bit for her features, but I imagine there aren’t too many eleven year old girls in Dekim’s stronghold.” 

            “…Your Excellency?  Aren’t you only twenty-six?” 

            He shook his head a little, running a hand through his hair.  “I do believe I said that we were young, Lieutenant Colonel.” 

            “Sir,” he returned sharply, and ran out to start giving out the orders. 

            Sanchez was a good man – though he was only his second here because he would make a terrible spy.  Trustworthy as he was, if Treize truly had his pick of his men?  He would take one of those he had out in the field.  In practice, however, it rarely worked out so neatly; your best were too valuable to saddle with a co-pilot’s redundancy.  In his experience, the more talent a man had, the greater he flourished in the field, and the worse he languished in an office.  The cycle only broke when they began to understand that Command was its own unique field to master. 

            Better to give them their own commands and leave them to circle the field and play hammer to his anvil. 

            When all this business with Zechs was done, he would be able to openly keep communications with everyone he trusted.  But so long as he had to settle for second or third hand intelligence for sake of secrecy, consolidation of his infrastructure would only slow them down. 

            Walking around his desk, he opened the drawer with all the things Leia sent in it and took up one of the better pictures, smiling. 

            _I’m coming…  I’ll see you again soon._  

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            Karina forced her breathing to be still for all that what she _really_ wanted to do was cry.  She was safe for now;  she just had to figure out how to get back to Devils’ ground. 

            She’d literally had a _bag shoved over her head_ when she was walking to the bathroom.  The horror that it had happened _in_ the church still hadn’t dissipated; even when she had half expected danger, she had always thought she would be protected inside the little chapel.  And….

            God, but she had been stupid, to think that Cal would let it go without another fucking _fight_.  He’d always been so fixed on needing to _win_ that she should have known even Kay wouldn’t be able to cow him with words alone. 

            She’d been able to fight her way free once they were out on the street, though truthfully it had been far more running than fighting.  She’d just had a _baby_ a month ago, and she was actually in really good shape, all things considered, but Cal and his boys were _ex-soldiers_. 

            She squeezed her eyes shut.  _They’re like Kay._  

            Chaos was better, but against forty some odd men?  He always fought smaller groups, even if it _was_ almost always groups to his one.  The most he’d taken on by himself had been the nine when he first arrived, and he had had the element of pure surprise, then. 

            It had been so long already…  They had to have known what had happened by now. 

            Wouldn’t Chaos have come by now, if he was going to? 

            _Do they think I’m already dead?_   She was as good as, if no one came soon…  She squeezed her eyes shut harder, and grit her teeth.  _Renee…_   If they had had no issues kidnapping her under the Father’s roof, would they have any about hurting the baby?  _The Sister had her…_   Would they have hurt Sister Isabel? 

            _What does he **want**?_   They could have killed her while they had her _either_ time, so that couldn’t be it; or at any rate, there was more to it than that. 

            She bit her lip as she heard someone walk past, but not come into the room.  _How many of them are out looking for me?_   There had been so many waiting in the blocks around the church that it had only been a matter of time before they caught her again the first time she had slipped away, and after throwing her in Cal’s room, they’d left to fetch the man.  She’d tried to make it back out through his little daylight cellar window – she’d done it before.  Unfortunately, she _had_ just had a baby, and it had been a scraping squeeze last year.  She’d tried her damndest for a while before giving up though, which meant that she’d scraped herself really good on the sides of it… before getting an idea. 

            Calvin had this magnificent fifth hand or something wardrobe that had come with the place that was hideously heavy and about to fall apart, somehow at the same time.  She’d climbed on top of it one night while feeling impish… and realized that the way it had been set against the wall however long ago had been to cover a hole in the drywall.  She had hidden things there – it was a bad habit she’d picked up when she was younger, but she liked having stash spots, just incase. 

            Luc teased her about it but let it lie… even gotten her a box with a little key to keep things away from him in when he found out about it. 

            It was a break in the drywall at first, nothing special, but the old wood of the wardrobe leaned forward enough that she could slip her legs behind and kick it when she was upset about something, and it hadn’t taken much of that before it had become a much bigger hole, then something of a crawlspace.  She had never used it as a hiding spot because she _left_ if Cal pissed her off, whether or not he had been alright with it – hence the window incident.  She supposed that that was why it hadn’t occurred to her earlier. Well, along with the fact that staying was an incredibly _bad_ idea, but hiding here had been the best alternative. 

            And it had been _oh so_ vindicating to hear Cal come in and knock a few heads together after he saw the open window and realized it smelled like blood.  Apparently, he had never had the nerve to tell his men that she’d used that escape route before, so they hadn’t realized she could fit.  Well, not that she _did_ anymore, but that was hardly the point. 

            Your girlfriend escaping out the window in the middle of the night did sound pretty bad, come to think of it. 

            The amusement had only lasted so long, though.  All she could do was stand here, and the insulation made it hard to breathe, made her skin _hurt_ … they had taken her coat when they locked her in.  She had never stayed in here more than a few seconds before if she needed her stash, or just dropped things from the top of the cabinet. 

            Maybe if Kay and Luc and everyone rushed the place while half the people were still out looking for her… but would they still be trying, or have just called it to an end, whatever this was?  Were they all back here holding strong for any retribution that would come once she made it home and told?  _Our not even twenty decent fighters against their almost forty ex-soldiers…  Oh God, I’m walking my family into a trap._  

            Genius plan, this. 

            She was half considering shimmying back out and trying to slink her way out a back door when someone came in… and threw something against the wardrobe.  She held her breath, but the next sound was that of a boot kicking the bed. 

            _He’s pissed._   Cal didn’t bellow when he was mad; he took out his temper more physically.  Chaos was the same way, only his temper was… what had the Hilde girl called it?  His battle persona.  While it could be terrifying, it was focused.  It never spilled over, like Cal’s. 

            He threw open the doors of his wardrobe and she slowly leaned back as far as she could, closing her eyes and making herself think about something else.  Her ex was one of those people who knew when he was being watched.  She wasn’t sure if her presence here would set that off… but today was not a day to tempt fate. 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium**

            “I’m bored,” Dorothy didn’t quite whine.  “We should find a movie to watch.  Or play Clue or something.” 

            “I stopped playing board games when I was a little girl,” Relena returned, continuing to write.  “And I need to get this done.” 

            The other woman rolled her eyes, then looked pointedly at Jake, who was fiddling on his laptop in the recliner next to the couch Relena was stretched across.  He frowned.  “I don’t know _how_ to play Clue.” 

            “How can you not know how?” Dorothy demanded. 

            “My family’s take on tabletop games was a little nontraditional.”

            “You need to know how to play, that’s just wrong!” 

            “We don’t have a board anyway,” Relena noted, not liking where this was going, and she thought correctly reading Jake’s disinterest. 

            “I can make one, it’s easy,” Dorothy negated, standing up and walking towards them to get a piece of paper. 

            “I really don’t care to learn,” Jake admitted.  “I’ll play you in chess if you really feel the need to stay here and have something to do, but I don’t feel like learning a new game right now.” 

            She considered that for a moment, then smiled.  “I’ll go find a board, then.” 

            “You’re going to lose,” Relena noted once the other girl had left. 

            “That depends entirely on how much I manage to distract her.  And besides, it’ll keep her from being as annoying.”  He closed his computer and moved to set it on the coffee table, standing up to stretch. 

            “She’s not that bad,” Relena defended absently, frowning and scratching something out. 

            “No, she’s not,” he agreed. “But if she’s ignored, she gets that way pretty fast.  In any case, I had to stop chatting with Dave a half hour or so ago; he’s with the group off to cut down Barton’s attempt at withdrawing L3 from the Regime.” 

            “He is?”  She looked up, pursing her lips.  “Milliardo was saying something about a little girl involved in it all?” 

            “Mariemaia Barton-Khushrenada,” he agreed, coming to sit next to her and look through the outline of the address she had been working on.  “Treize’s little girl.” 

            Relena blinked, letting him have the sheet.  “Treize had a daughter?” 

            “Yeah.  Even if it wasn’t true, it’s what Dekim’s been promoting her as, and she looks an awful lot like his mother.  It was all very hush hush, though, and we have no idea where Leia Barton is; probably working off of a different pseudonym to save the family some face.” 

            “That’s… sad,” the princess mumbled, stitching her brows together.  “And her grandfather’s just using her?” 

            “From what we can tell.  Either way, we need to take him down before somebody else gets the same idea and round up the people who were willing to go along with it, make sure we keep tabs on them.” 

            “But what about the little girl?  If we don’t know where her mother is-” 

            “Zechs was thinking to keep her here, maybe with you,” Dorothy explained as she came back in, apparently having overheard enough of their conversation to follow.  “She has a nanny who was taking care of her on a different colony, but he’s worried that if he leaves her there she might be picked up and used as a symbol of revolution by someone else.” 

            “We should have the nanny hired again and brought here, if at all possible,” Relena decided, looking back to the colonel.  “She would be more comfortable if there was someone she knew staying with her.” 

            “Mm.”  He grabbed her top sheet and scribbled a note about that, underlined and circled. 

            “I didn’t know you were getting a secretary too,” Dorothy exclaimed, all mock coyness as she set up the chessboard.  

            Jake smirked and chucked a folder at her, staring intently at Relena’s notes when she turned to glare at him.  “It’s called making yourself useful; you should try it sometime,” he offered nonchalantly.  “You never know, you might have a talent for it.”  

            “I’m not against helping,” she defended, and opening the thing.  “Just noting what a neatly wrapped package you seem to be.”  She frowned.  “…This is already done with.  And notarized.” 

            “My God, would you look at that, she’s observant too,” the blonde man continued in a monotone, not looking up.  “We have a prodigy.” 

            “I _am_ a prodigy,” she protested, giving him an absurd look. 

            Relena grinned.  “I think that’s the part that makes it funny, actually.” 

            Dorothy rolled her eyes, standing up and walking over to look through what they were working with… and smack Jake upside the head with the folder.  He was ready for it though, and took it as an opportunity to tug the long braid she had coming over one shoulder as if to ring a bell.  She smacked at him, but he dodged that entirely… and was on the other side of the room. 

            Relena blinked.  That had been really _fast_ … but she was reassured from any strangeness by his naughty laughter, which was the sort that you’d expect to hear from a little boy, not a grown man.  Dorothy seemed startled as well, but was just as quickly allayed… at which point she decided to plop down on the couch and hold out one hand for something to work on. 

            Relena smirked, settling back.  “I really _am_ almost done.” 

            Dorothy gave her an annoyed look, then motioned with her hand again… and the princess snickered before handing over what she was working on.  “The press release is this Saturday; see what holes you can find.” 

            “Mmhmm…”  Her eyes were totally focused on the paper as she settled into the opposite corner of the couch.  Relena looked back over to Jake, who was back in the recliner and had resumed going through the folder for the logistics of her next project.  She rolled her eyes at him, and he smirked, making an odd gesture with that somehow translated to, ‘Don’t worry about it.’ 

            She rolled her eyes again and sat back, debating what to do with herself now that her friends had run off with her job. 

-

***

-

**L3-X18999**

            Mariemaia sighed out at the darkness, hunkering down and looking through the bars of the railing.  The imagery of being in a cage suited the way she felt, for all that the weather was nice enough to make her feel childish about it.  The grounds were beautiful, but her balcony was too high up to jump, and someone would notice if she tried to find a different way down.  She’d still be allowed to go, but they would be watching her… 

            She didn’t like being watched, she had discovered. 

            This wasn’t a balcony off her room – her room was on the interior of the building.  There were plenty of spare guestrooms in the manor, though.  Looking over her shoulder and back into the bedroom, she wondered how long it would be before someone noticed she was missing.  _Probably not until morning._   She’d gone to bed about an hour ago, supposedly, and no one would check to make sure that that was the case – either they didn’t care, or they didn’t want to offend. 

            She was nearly positive, she’d decided, that her grandfather had taken her up because of her father.  She still wasn’t sure just how deep that rabbit hole went, though.  Once she’d thought to look for it, she’d picked up on the too distinct edge of _interest_ all her grandfather’s soldiers had in her… which was a little creepy, but probably something she could use, if push came to shove. 

            It would probably help if she knew _why_ she had their attention, but needing to ask would likely lose it; they might think Grandfather, as her guardian, had withheld the information because… well, for possibly important reasons?  That she was too young to be trusted.  She might lose the little leverage she had, and she didn’t want to take that risk when she already had so little to work with. 

            Or worse, they’d realize the entire thing was a scam and not only would she trade this shaky, delicate privilege Grandfather had established for her, but then, instead of loyal troops, they would suddenly be surrounded by thousands of _angry men with guns_. 

            _God, at least if he’d told me what game he was playing, we wouldn’t have that hanging over us._   She would have been disenchanted with the whole situation sooner, but that hadn’t taken long anyway, and she wasn’t stupid enough to think she could do anything but play along.  He had her passports, both the real one and the handful she’d switched between growing up.  She didn’t have any money, or even a laptop or tablet; he’d told her to leave them, because they were old, and then, well, why would she need a personal computer when the desktops here were so nice?  There had been a ‘problem’ with transferring any of her old contacts or _anything_ from her old phone that meant she didn’t even have any pictures of Meagan or her classmates, to try to prove who she’d been. 

            It had been a month, and she was almost positive that Maria Benson had been erased from records like she’d never existed.  Or maybe she’d been in some kind of terrible ‘accident’ that meant no one would ever think to ask where she’d gone.  She couldn’t ask outright, but she’d tested the waters, saying she’d forgotten a few things in the rush to pack – that she wanted to call Meagan and have them sent.  Grandfather had tutted and told her it would likely be a while, as the house had been _packed_ , the staff relocated or given references for employment elsewhere as they preferred, as twelve was too old for a governess. 

            Did he even remember she didn’t turn twelve until September? 

            He’d sold the house.  He’d _fired_ Meagan like the past seven years was just some _job_ instead of both of their lives.  And she’d had to _smile_ at him like she was happy he’d considered her old enough to _use_ , because if she didn’t, it could turn so much worse.  He’d already disappeared her to a colony that had been evacuated and taken off the directory before the war. 

            She’d rather try her luck with the paternity scam, even if the only power she had was probably a gun held to both of their heads.  The ethics were super sketch, but she was totally a minor; even if somehow her mom couldn’t get boss lawyers for her, no judge was going to pin this crap on her. 

            And it _was_ crap.  Total.   _Crap._   Grandfather wanted to break away from the Peacecraft Regime, and even if she didn’t think was… morally _wrong_ , it still would have struck her as stupid.  They’d done a research projects in her Current Events class last spring, and while she’d done hers on post-Fall economics, Frank’s had been on the military politics and armistice across the globe, and she’d helped him with his sources.  Earth was _big_.  Even with the casualties after _Libra_ ’s fall, the number of soldiers they could muster on short notice was more than three times what _all_ the colonies could turn out if they made a _draft_.  The gundams had only worked so well as they did because of their sheer power, and even then, only when they were paired with guerilla tactics.  If they had mobile dolls they might be able to pull it off, but that idea had pointedly never been brought up – she had the feeling that it was a taboo subject. 

            _But even if we **had** dolls, they have **Dorothy Catalonia**._   The only counter to that that she could think of would be Quatre Winner, whose whereabouts were completely unknown. 

            …She didn’t understand.  Everything she could put together… sure, Milliardo Peacecraft was a horrible person and a crappy leader and crazy and _violent_ , but the colonies were still _winning_ on the sliding scale of economics with Earth for the first time _ever_ , so why would you want to break that and poke the crazy with a stick?  He had the martial advantage in spades, and he was taxing the crap out of the colonies, sure, but he wasn’t starving them, he wasn’t invading them, wasn’t refusing medical aid and locking them in to ration water and _die_ , wasn’t stealing or drafting or enslaving anyone in the colonists, and that was a lot better than the Alliance had been.  So long as he stayed on Earth he wasn’t _their_ problem, so why mess with it? 

            The colonies were the little guys, the vulnerable ones; they always had been, and it wasn’t going to change any time soon.  On a sheer science level, it was _hard_ to live in space, to stay safe without an atmosphere and gravity and _history_ doing all the work for you.  They had their strengths in tech and innovation, but they were never going to be the big kid on the playground; the whole point of colonizing in the first place was in value, not power. 

            _Is it a greed thing?_   She might not get it, but that was all she was coming up with, besides stupid.  Operation Meteor had been about gaining independence, from the Alliance, and it had gone seriously sideways, but they’d _gotten_ their freedom, as good as any country could claim, at least realistically.  Isolationism only got you so far, because no country could live in a vacuum.  She snickered.  _Well, only a literal one._   Space was what it was, but historically, sticking your head in the sand and pretending your neighbors weren’t there screwed everybody over long-term. 

            She sighed, slumping further against the bars.  _There’s nothing I can do._   Not until her grandfather slipped and gave her the opportunity.  Even then, she’d have to be careful; she didn’t have phone numbers for anyone, she didn’t have ID… she didn’t even know what _name_ her mom was living under.  She’d done the second part of her residency in… L1, maybe?  Her fellowship had been in Pennsylvania, but she’d been in the first wave of the east coast evacuations, so she’d had to finish… where? 

            God, she’d been so _mad_ that she was going back on her word about coming to live with her that she’d refused to talk to her mom for _months_ , and when she’d gotten over it… there were still subjects they avoided.  Politics were safe, and classmates, coworkers, Marie’s school, but not…  She’d talked about wanting to work in an ER where she was _needed_ before all that, and she had to be done with her fellowship by now, but… 

            Marie brought her knees up to her chest and dropped her face against her legs, clenching her teeth and willing herself not to cry.  _I’m so **selfish**!_   She didn’t even know if her mom was _living on Earth_.  She’d never mentioned moving down to the atmosphere, but they didn’t _talk_ about things that made them mad, or sad, and she _didn’t know how to find her mom_!  And Meagan’s last name was _Smith_ , and she didn’t know what year she was born, and Meagan was _gone_ , and she couldn’t trust _anyone_ here because they all wanted something and she didn’t even know _what_. 

            _What would Mom say?_ She thought sternly, taking in a deep breath and holding it before letting it out slow. 

            _‘So you made a mistake; it’s done.  You can’t take it back.  What should you do now?’_  

            Rocking back a little, she walked through it all in her head again.  _Watch.  Wait._   She licked her lips, taking in another deep breath.  _If I mess this up, I might not get the chance to try again.  He’ll be too careful.  So **wait** for it, be ready…  _

_…and run._  

            If she could find a way off the colony, she could get someone’s attention; her uncle Trowa had pulled her into his lap when she was younger, let her handle the dashboard while he steered; it had been years ago, but it wasn’t too hard, she could logic through the basics.  So… get close enough to another cluster to be noticed and send out a distress call.  Everything Grandfather planned to use in his new little war probably wasn’t registered, even, so if she did it right, she could get close but not _too_ close, and use an escape pod.  They’d get the distress call and just assume the missing serial was from damage from a crash she’d survived, at least at first.  By the time they realized it was weird, she… could she give them her old address and use it to find Meagan before Grandfather caught up to her. 

            _No._   He’d be faster than that, and he _owned_ most of L3 anyway.  She didn’t know anywhere near enough to get out of this cluster to L4, where she might get a better time buffer.  And… Meagan loved her, she didn’t doubt that, but even if she found her fast enough, as soon as she said she’d run away?  _Does she know what he’s like?  Or will she just… tell me it’s okay, and call him to let him know I’m safe?_   Because… that was what she’d always Marie to do if someone kidnapped her… and with how they’d left, she didn’t know if Meagan would fall her mom or her grandfather. 

            _…I can’t._  

            Swallowing hard, she closed her eyes, feeling wretched.  Crying wasn’t going to help anything. 

            _School._   Her education was important; they wouldn’t have erased that, just told them she was transferring, or testing out.  The school kept records, they had pictures of her, she…  Some of the older kids boarded there, she could use that address, say…  Tell the police she’d just moved – start acting hysterical like a scared little girl if they pushed too much.  They’d have her mom’s cell, she was pretty sure?  She still wouldn’t have _much_ time, but if she could get a call to her mom, then maybe even if he took her back… 

            That…  That was really the best she could do, wasn’t it?  It wasn’t much, but… 

            _Oh, who cares?_ she decided, giving in to the sobs.  Nobody was here to see her.  Maybe they wouldn’t help anything, but so long as she was alone, nothing was wrong with crying either. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “All alone, pretty boy?” 

            Luc spun hard and narrowed his eyes at the man, sizing him up; he recognized the blatantly worn pendant all of the Slingers had.  He didn’t recognize the man himself, but that didn’t say much; he wasn’t a bad fighter by any count, but he had been maybe the fifth best before Chaos showed up.  And he was tired… 

            This wasn’t the time to let his uncertainty be known, though.  “You have something of mine,” he grit out instead. 

            “Your girl run off?” the guy asked, smirking.  “’Fraid she has something of a history of that, friend.” 

            “My _wife_ was _snatched_ ,” he snapped back, _really_ not appreciating the mocking tone.  “My _daughter_ is hungry, and I’m afraid Sin’s the only one who can take care of that.”  He didn’t even know if the baby would _take_ formula; she’d only ever had breast milk. 

            “That’s not my problem.  You’re on Slinger ground.  Your own space is big enough, I’d suggest getting back to it.” 

`           “I’ll go back when I have my wife back,” he returned, stepping forward. 

            The Slinger stepped back, grimacing.  “Like I said, that’s really _not_ my problem!” 

            “Of course it’s not,” agreed Shov in a dark tone, coming up behind the man with Nicolaas.  That was good.  _I wasn’t sure if I could actually take him alone._   Probably, but not positive.  “You’ll have to convince Chaos that you’re not _his_ problem, though.” 

            “You found him?”  Luc called over the guy’s shoulder, not taking his eyes off him.  He was shifting uncomfortably… being in a pincer didn’t bode well for him and he knew it. 

            “Started tying up his hair and told me to go _sleep_ ,” Nic agreed, sounding amused and incredulous.  “That he had it under control.  By the time I sprinted my ass home, Val said he’d left about five minutes before, armed to the teeth with the same bag he pulled all his goodies out of when we saved Hilde Schbeiker.” 

            The Slinger was licking his lips… and Luc smiled hard at him as they both caught the connotation.  He knew too much now: they weren’t going to let him survive the night, if the half hour. 

            Just because they avoided killing didn’t mean they hadn’t done it before.  This was their home, the cops had long since stopped caring, and sometimes…. He was just so _tired_.  Since Chaos had come they hadn’t _needed_ to kill to keep the peace half so often, but for all that he’d grown up on the rougher side of town, his hometown had been a _heaven_ before _Libra_ , if he compared to what came after. 

            “Run and tell Val that Luc’s alright,” Shov ordered Nic, cocking the gun he’d had in his hand since he’d walked up.  “We’ve got this.” 

            Nic smirked at the Slinger, shaking his head a little… before turning to do as he was told. 

            “One man against everybody but me and two others?” he snarled, spitting at Shov.  “You’re all full of shit.  The Sweepers handled Schbeiker.” 

            “Nah, it was me and Chaos and four other Devils,” Luc dismissed, smirking as he flipped out his favorite knife.  He’d left without thinking; he seriously hoped Shov had his gun.  “Kay just used to be with the Sweepers, so he knew how to play it.” 

            “Bullshit.  News said the bullets left were the same Sally Po herself prefers.” 

            “Were they really?” Luc asked, a little startled. 

            “They fought together a couple times in the war,” Shov offered by way of explanation to his leader.  “I guess it’s not that surprising that they like the same brands.” 

            “I guess.”  You could see in the guy’s eyes that he was starting to believe… and this was far more fun than it should have been.  It was wrong on so many levels…  But he hadn’t started it and put the man on death row, and he was past caring. 

            And it was fun to be able to brag now and then. 

            “She stayed with us for a couple weeks,” Shov explained to the man conversationally.  “Hot little thing, kicked ass…” 

            “I still say she wasn’t curvy enough to be hot.” 

            “And you just don’t get that she just doesn’t _need_ them.  I still seriously wish she’d been willing to make out with _me_ instead of Chaos.” 

            “They never actually stopped seeing each other,” Luc reminded him.  “She just thought he was dead.” 

            “And he came to hang out with _us_ instead of chasing after her,” Shov agreed, rolling his eyes. 

            The guy was shaking his head.  “Chaos isn’t ex-Sweeper.  I was a Sweeper.  The explosives I heard about for Schbeiker match fine, and his repair shit he’s got going with the whore, but he sure as hell doesn’t move like them.  They don’t have that kind of training.” 

            “Melissa’s _not_ a whore,” Luc snapped, fury rising in him again. 

            He snorted.  “Sure as hell used to be.  Little cunt sure can fight, though; wouldn’t have thought it when I saw her back in the red-light.  ” 

            “She’s not there anymore,” Shov snapped before Luc could get any more worked up.  “And I suppose I wasn’t specific enough: Chaos wasn’t so much with the Sweepers as they were his groupies.  Smart crowd to have kept, what with his mecha.” 

            The man froze.  “Duo Maxwell’s dead.  Or if he’s not, he’d be far away from a shithole like this.”  But his words were slow, eyes were horrified, and he wasn’t really looking at them anymore. 

            Luc felt his stomach drop.  Hilde had called his friend Duo.  _Duo Maxwell?_   She had called him something Sin had thought translated to something like “devil” too, and Duo Maxwell had called himself the god of death, a grim reaper… 

            Shov snorted.  “Dead?  Nah, he just cut off his hair and decided to keep his head low.” 

 _That **braid** …  His church destroyed…  Shit, the **Maxwell Church Massacre**._  

            “He likes domestic life with us a lot more than the wars,” he heard himself add.  “He couldn’t let his old friend get caught by the Regime, though.  And he’s not going to let anyone get away with hurting his new family.  You took her in the _church_ too; that’s all sorts of wrong, to him.” 

            The guy looked like he wanted to throw up.  Shov raised his gun.  “I think that was more than he wanted to hear, Luc.”  He twitched his free hand in a gesture that meant he didn’t want to use up his ammo if he could help it. 

            The Slinger was facing Shov now, staring at the gun but not really seeing it.  “I think you’re right.” 

            They left the body where it was; once the cops saw the gang pendant, they’d investigate enough to make sure he wasn’t just a random body dropped with convincing jewelry then drop the case, if they bothered to do that much.  That fact usually made his stomach twist even if it worked in his favor, but he really _was_ past caring.  Besides, if Chaos was really Duo Maxwell, then this was only the start of the trouble. 

            If it even _was_ the start; Kay might have gotten the ball rolling already. 

            But… Kay loved his wife like a sister, and he had gotten the distinct impression that the boy was ready and willing to do exactly this before she had even _picked_ Luc.  He’d noticed the stash of weapons long before Shov did; he’d searched the guy’s room when Laura had found the _braid_ , when she’d gone looking for a music disk he’d borrowed. 

            Was it bad that the explosives hadn’t bothered him one bit, but the hair had scared the _shit_ out of him?  Well, he’d mostly written off the weapons as being the same as Rina’s money hoarding, honestly.  Even if he hadn’t been plotting how to take down a group of forty soldiers, he’d gotten the impression Chaos probably would have kept as many weapons as he could manage. 

            Though now, knowing that he was _used_ to taking down much larger groups of soldiers that were better armed, it looked like he might be more reasonable about his collecting.  There had never been any evidence of the pilots having a surplus of supplies when they did any of their impossible shit during the war, so maybe it was just normal. 

            “You look like shit,” Shov muttered worriedly. 

            “I’ve got blood all on my shirt, what did you expect when you asked me to stab him?” 

            “No, before that.” 

            “Oh.  Yeah.” 

            “Are you upset that I told you?” 

            “No… still in shock I think, but…  There’s something reassuring about an ex-gundam pilot doing everything in his power to rescue Karina.” 

            His childhood friend grinned.  “I thought it might be.” 

            “We should go see if we can help him.” 

            “Luc, you’re about to fall over from lack of sleep and we’d probably get in his way.  Especially if he’s flinging explosives around.” 

            “He’s just as sleep deprived, and I’m not going home without my wife.” 

            “He’s _done_ it before,” Shov protested, half chasing after him. 

            “There’s a first time for everything,” Luc returned, rolling his eyes. 

            “You’re not understanding me.  Luc!”  He grabbed at his leader’s arms.  “He’s _Duo Maxwell_.” 

            Luc smirked a little.  “You said that.” 

            “So _listen_!  What part of _boom_ aren’t you getting?!  You’ve seen him scrap but he’s a stealth _god_ and the _definition_ of a weapons specialist, if he doesn’t know we’re there then he might accidentally blow us _up_!” 

            “Then we’ll stand on the sidelines and see if maybe he needs some back-up!” the blonde man snapped, twisting out of the other’s grasp.  “Shit, we’ll make sure they get _out_ if he sets fire to the place!  We’ll call an ambulance if one of them gets hurt, shit, we’ll probably need one for Rina already!” 

            “Alright, I just-” 

            “This is my _wife_ , Shov!  I finally got her and I _can’t_ lose her now!  How the hell can you think that I could go home?!” 

            “I’m sorry, okay!  Shit, quiet down, we’ll go, huh?  I’m just worried, we’re way out of our fuckin’ league…  And I’m not a moron, I know what you mean.  ‘Liss should already be there, ready to do any of that.” 

            Luc sobered at that, squeezing his eyes shut as they started walking again.  “I hate it when people talk about her like that.” 

            Shov sighed.  “Yeah… me too.”

-

***

-

**L3-X18999**

            Adam’s chest heaved as he hid the last of the men he’d had to hurt once they had realized he wasn’t one of their own; at least it was late at night and the guard had been light.  Unfortunately, while a small contingent of men could be called “light,” the same did not necessarily apply to their individual weight. 

            He had already replaced what didn’t work from his thrown together uniform from the lowest ranking of the guards.  Hopefully it had been the wrong clothes and talk that had gotten him in trouble, not the wrong face.  If the group was so tight knit as that, the night was not going to be without casualties, and he didn’t begrudge Treize his men; one way or another, eventually they were going to learn that the child’s father was still alive, and they would be more loyal than ever. 

            Adam was only here because he didn’t trust that the little girl wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire of cutthroat factions, well-meaning or not.  It only took one bullet to kill somebody. 

            He snugged a uniform cap over his head, running a hand over the M on it.  Dekim had really outdone himself.  Well, either that or embarrassed himself beyond redemption, it was hard to say.  Obviously, the head of the Barton family _had_ convinced everyone to wear it, so it couldn’t be _too_ bad.  He’d never thought that men without causes were so malleable as these ones seemed to be, but perhaps that was more personal experience than general consensus. 

            He shrugged a little to himself as he maneuvered his little shuttle to a more secluded area of the dock, out of sight from most angles behind several larger ones, but still with a fast escape route.  He fully expected to be out of here by the time Regime troops showed up, but he didn’t want to be caught with his pants down if it didn’t go as planned.  The thing he liked about his dingy little ship was that it had an intelligent enough computer to manage an autopilot back to its last destination.  It would use the route it had tracked here… and he had made a covert enough flight plan that if tonight went to hell in a hand basket he could get the two of them back to Earth safely with a bullet in his gut.  Not that that was going to happen, with the Kevlar he had managed to procure, but the point was there all the same. 

            He tucked a folder he had brought under his arm, making sure his personal weapons were hidden and the standard issue ones sitting about where they ought to be.  He only had a small window of time with an included high margin of safety.  Nodding a little to himself, he started jogging, making sure to look busy but not overly excited that would hopefully see him ignored.  This shouldn’t take too long… the Regime spies had managed a hopefully accurate map of the place, and he had memorized it, give or take. 

            He wanted to be back on his way to Earth on the inside of thirty minutes. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

 

-

            ‘ _It’s not quite built like our Den; I think maybe it was a manor, once upon a time.  There’s more than one back door.’_

_‘How many?’_

_‘Four, but you won’t be able to make it through one of them.  They didn’t want the vulnerability, so they put a fridge against the old door.’_  

-

 

            It hadn’t taken much work with a crowbar to get rid of the boards over it, or much noise.  They hadn’t put the fridge completely flush to the thing either – it would have been impossible – and he had been able to nudge it open without much convincing.  He had about two inches of crack to work though after picking the deadbolt; either the previous owners had skimped on security while making everything pretty, or there’d been a problem at some point and it was cheaply replaced.  Maybe they’d used the good lock on a door they didn’t board up; either way, it was only six pins and he didn’t need to drill it. 

            The more he could surprise them, the easier this would go.  He’d had to blast everything open when he sprung Hilde out of her cell, but this place was better manned and they’d be expecting some kind of retribution by now. 

            He spaced a few explosives on the inside, running the fuse out the door.  There was enough power there that it should move the appliance out of the way, and fast.  Ought to take out anyone in the same room. 

            He dropped his long coat, feeling goose bumps form up as his bare arms were exposed to the cold air.  He had all his holsters on, and tight, but none of the metal touching his skin – he already had a few nasty scars already from making the mistake of holstering a good conductor against skin when there was a chance the situation might literally get hot.  He doubted he’d come out of this without a few new marks, but pain was damned distracting to fight through.  The nice thing about what he’d worn back during the war was that he could hide practically anything in the folds and the bagginess gave him a margin of error too… but there was no point in concealing what he was up to right now. 

            And the thing he liked about this muscle shirt and pair of pants was that they were made so they light up easily; useful when you’re about to run through a wall of flames.  And the way these guys scrapped, any extra cloth hanging off him would be a handhold.  The straps across his body settled just right, he’d resewn them from their himself to fit like a glove… and a nice perk about the braid being short now was that it was easier to tuck under a cap to keep it from catching in the fire. 

            The rest of the explosives he had were small, not too likely to start up a true blaze, but he wanted a fast entrance that they weren’t expecting.  Enough of these shitheads had the Alliance training background that told them to assume this kind of tactic was just the distraction; they wouldn’t come his way en mass until they realized his pincer didn’t exist. 

            Overwhelming force was _absolutely_ a valid tactic.  Trying to be so smart about this was where he was going to get them, at least to start with.  Otherwise, the goal was to keep the place going up in flames while he was in it, but the damage bad enough so any survivors too busy licking their wounds to be interested in revenge.  He _was_ going to need to sleep after this. 

            There wasn’t any sound of someone screaming or crying; no signs of upset that he could hear.  That could be good or bad… but this place was also a lot more soundproof than the Devil’s Den. 

            It was time to rock. 

            He smiled slightly at his lighter as he flicked it open.  Howard had given it to him once upon a time, after he had brought Hilde back to _Peacemillion_.  Something about always doing what was right instead of what was smart, and how he was proud of him.  It was nice; said it had been a present to him when the _Peacemillion_ had been constructed, made out of the same stock of titanium.  There was an intricate yet vague design of a flying bird etched into it, flames trailing from its wings and tail.  On the other side were the words, _‘The best way to predict the future is to invent it. – Alan Kay’_  

            He smirked, feeling himself sliding into that calm cold… and lit the fuse. 

-

***

-

            When she heard something explode, the response was automatic, and she wasn’t awake enough to stop herself; she screamed. 

            And Cal was still in the room. 

            She heard him freeze in his attack on his heavy bag… and started praying. 

-

***

-

**L3-X18999**

            She was gone. 

            The bed covers were pulled back like she’d clearly gone to bed and gotten back up, but as he searched the room, he knew that she wasn’t really there. 

            _Shit.  Of all the nights to take a midnight wander…_  

            He quietly left the little girl’s room and started wandering, trying to think of where she might have gone.  His map wasn’t good enough for _this_ , he’d only thought of a few routes…  And they were running out of time before the cavalry arrived. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            She tried walking deeper into the wall, but it was slow going, and it was tight; the insulation was ripping into her clothes, but she was almost away from her spot… 

            Everything was much brighter as he heaved the wardrobe on its side.  _Almost away, almost-_  

            He caught a hold of her wrist.  “You little bitch,” he snarled, catching her wrist and _wrenching_ so she screamed, her shoulder was going to come out… 

            Still, she held onto the wood framework.  She did _not_ want to be pulled out from the safety of the drywall.  “Bastard!  What do you _want_ from me?” 

            “I don’t appreciate being used,” he snarled in that ice voice of his… and slammed his boot through the part of the wall she was in. 

            She gasped at a burst of pain in her leg, losing her grip, and he yanked her out into the open. 

-

***

-

**L3-X18999**

            “No guard,” Treize mused as they landed, his eyes narrowed.  No immediate guard, rather.  The proximity scanners would have picked them up if nothing else; he hadn’t bothered to try for stealth. 

            Someone should be manning the post; this was the largest dock, their greatest vulnerability, and however twisted, Dekim wasn’t stupid.  Leaving Duncan to finish landing, he stepped out onto the platform before the craft had come to a complete stop. 

            There was blood on the control panel. 

            He frowned, mind racing.  Dave was spearheading Regime strike, and they were still nearly an hour away; General Lee’s decision to attack _tonight_ , a bare two days after receiving intelligence on Dekim’s scheme and hours after the decision itself had been unexpectedly impulsive.  He had known their window would be nerve rackingly small, but his face was all he needed, even just for a few minutes, to regain these misguided men.  And once he’d realized Mariemaia was _here_ …  Why put her through the stress of being captured and extracting her from Milliardo’s custody if he could rescue her himself?  She wouldn’t remember him but he could prove it easily, and his exile would be so much more bearable, if they could get a fresh start. 

            He was confident he could be a good father, given the chance.  Didn’t they both deserve that? 

            There was no sign of a Regime galley or carrier.  Violence was write large across the silence of the hangar, blood spilled as casually as coffee, and _his daughter slept here_. 

            Was there an uprising within the group already?  _I can’t afford complications tonight._  

            He couldn’t go find Marie, not like he had wanted to.  _So close, and yet always so far away._   There was no time, he had to defuse the situation _now_.  If left without any choice he trusted Váli to keep her safe and secret her away at the first opportunity. 

            Unbidden, unwelcome, a poignant thought rose.  _How do you think this might have gone, had you let Chang kill you?_  

            Once, he had believed he would never hate himself for anything so much as facilitating the rise of mobile dolls.  Then he had survived the most passively _pointless_ suicide attempt he could imagine – a _symbol_ , like it would have had a chance to even _take_ – and every time he thought he understood just how deep the well ran, his self-loathing reached all new depths. 

            He owed Jake _years_ of apologies; if he made it another year without losing his mind, perhaps someday he would even tell him as much. 

            Men came rushing into the room – _finally_ – and he merely turned to face them, flashing them a charismatically bemused smile. When they froze, deer in the headlights, he let his face shift into a practiced smirk and raised pointedly ran his eyes over their features. 

            Almost as one, they saluted. 

            _Perfect._  

            He saluted back and started towards them.  “I’ve heard that my daughter is in residence,” he announced smoothly.  “I’m afraid I haven’t seen her since before she began school.” 

            “Sir,” one muttered, licking his lips.  “You’re… you’re alive.” 

            “Allowing Peacecraft to believe I was not has made subverting him far easier than it might have otherwise been,” he noted coolly.  “I had something of a close call and it was too good an opportunity to let pass, considering the circumstances.”  He raised one brow again, he let some small measure of his agitation show, tempered with languid arrogance; so much of this song and dance was about pretending you had all the time in the world while you counted down the seconds.  “But what’s this madness about breaking away from Earth’s line of support?” 

            “The rig’s secured, your Excellency,” Duncan announced as he and the others he had brought came running up to them. 

            _Impeccable timing._   Ryder always _did_ have an excellent sense for bluffing; Dekim’s men looked like they were starting to sweat.  “Good.  Let’s move along, then.”  He focused back on the soldier who had spoken before, smiling and tilting his head generously.  “Name?” 

            “Cameron Lampey, your Excellency.”  He still looked nervous, but a little less so. 

            “I believe I’m past due for a meeting with the man who as done everything in his power to keep me from seeing my family for the past twelve years,” he decided.  “If someone will go wake Marie, I would appreciate an escort to Dekim.” 

            Lampey licked his lips, eyes wide, but didn’t argue.  “Morray, Freidman, please go wake Miss Mariemaia and inform her that her father has arrived.” 

            “Duncan,” Treize muttered, glancing to the man.  There was _blood_ on the control panel, and he didn’t know these fools. 

            “Sir.”  The pilot followed after them. 

            Treize forced himself not to clench his jaw as he gestured curtly for Lampey to lead the way.  He’d _wanted_ to wake Mariemaia himself.  He’d only been able to hold her the once, when she was still so _young_ ; in many ways this would be their first meeting, and now it would come after he tore the house down around their ears.  _Not the most auspicious circumstances._   Yet another thing he felt no qualms against pinning on the madman Leia had the misfortune to call father. 

            “Did the alarm I tripped rouse the base?” he asked calmly as he briskly walked a step and a half faster than the pace the man had set, ignoring his scramble to adjust.  “Or will there still be a need to wake everyone?” 

            “I’m not sure, your Excellency,” he admitted, and motioned at another two men.  They set off jogging in opposite directions. 

            _Not bad.  Needs work, but hardly hopeless._   “We’re going to need to evacuate,” he went on to explain.  “Peacecraft is sending a strike force.”  He looked frankly into the man’s face.  “There are a great many things that the Lightning Count does not need to learn about tonight.” 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            Melissa slapped her hands over her ears when she heard the explosion, reconsidering her position.  She didn’t think it hadn’t been in the part of the building she was on top of – the place had three stories, it was hard to say – but staying on the roof was probably a bad idea if the structure might now be compromised. 

            She grinned a bit as she heard yelling _moving_ in that direction.  She could use that.  Hefting her hammer in one hand, she considered her options… 

            …and through her ringing ears, heard a woman scream. 

            Cursing, she bent her knees and brought the hammer down on the skylight with all her weight.  Shov had said to stand aside and watch, but there were a _lot_ of Slingers… and Karina was screaming.  She could hold her own; Shov wasn’t the one who’d spent nine years in a dojo.  Jumping down, she twisted into a roll to kill off the worst of her momentum, and landing and rolling back to her feet without pain. 

            Besides, Shov really should have known better than to give her Luc’s gun then tell her to stand back and wait.  She wasn’t great with the weapon, but she wasn’t horrible either.  She slipped beside a doorframe as she heard someone coming, probably to investigate the glass breaking, and swung at his head as he came in. 

            He went down immediately, not moving. 

            …Yeah, okay, that was never going to not feel shitty, but she could get over it later.  Swallowing hard, she dropped the tool and picked the man up under the armpits, dragging him the rest of the way into the room so he wouldn’t be immediately visible from outside.

            She could thin them out a little while she tried to find their friend. 

-

***

-

**L3-X18999**

            One moment, she was sulking, and the next, alarms were blaring.  Scrubbing her hands over her face, at first she’d thought she’d better head back before someone noticed she was missing, but… 

            That wasn’t a fire alarm.  There were dozens of shadows moving through the courtyard below and it wasn’t like a drill, or a panic…  There was something _dangerous_ in the air. 

            Being where literally no one would look sounded _great_.  She’d just stay here; it was dark, she doubted anyone would notice. 

            Which, you know, worked for maybe ten minutes; the lighting must have been better than she thought.  He met her eyes for a moment, then started talking louder and gesturing. 

            _Yeah, **no**._  

            The hall was still empty, and she picked a direction at random, _away_ from her room.  She made it down a set of stairs and partway through another hall before she started to hear footsteps.  Ducking through the closest door – thankfully empty again – she waited until they passed, heart racing.  _If I can just stay out of sight until-_  

            Wait.  Whatever was happening, if everyone was caught up in it, that meant _now_ could be her chance; it would take them longer to realize she was missing, if they just thought she was hiding. 

            Looking down at herself, she took stock.  She was glad she’d put on her jeans before leaving her room; plaid drawstring pants were usually a giveaway that you didn’t belong, no matter where you went.  If this was her chance, she could make it work.  Her slippers weren’t great, but she wasn’t wearing any of those silly, fluffy, obviously not-shoes; they could pass at a glance. 

            All she needed was a ship. 

            Carefully, as fast as she could move and still _listen_ , she started making her way to the hangar. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            Karina screamed bloody murder when he picked her up by her hair, grabbing onto his arm with both of hers and hoisting herself enough so she could kick him in the gut.  She couldn’t hit him hard, hanging like she was, but a moment later she managed to plant a foot on his chest.  With that anchor, she kicked him as hard as she could in the head with her other.  He grunted and loosened his grip enough that she could wrench away. 

            She could hear gunfire; Chaos was here.  _I only have to hold out long enough for him to reach me._   She started running for the door.  If she could get solid wood between them- 

            Cal grabbed her from behind, and she couldn’t help but smile grimly as she moved into the over the shoulder throw she’d seen Kay do, one that she’d gotten Hilde to teach her… and he landed hard against the damned armoire.  She dashed for the door again. 

-

***

-

**L3-X18999**

            “Mariemaia!” 

            She ran harder.  _Almost there!_  

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            Melissa spun around a corner as she heard Sin scream again, holding the gun steady in one hand, the hammer in the other.  She only had two bullets left, but nobody else knew that.  All the noise was still taking place on the first floor, presumably around Kay; she was picking off hers through stealth and ambush.  Getting from the third floor down to the second hadn’t been too hard – she hadn’t taken more than a couple bruises – but she was going to have nightmares about this for months.  _What else is new._   The alternate staircase coming down to the first looked entirely abandoned. 

            The walls _vibrated_ as another explosion went off.  A picture fell off the wall nearby, the sound of the shattering glass almost entirely lost in the chaos. 

            Other people were screaming too now, both mad and in hair-raising pain, but she didn’t _care_ about them.  Luc’s wife hadn’t stopped, and Liss really fucking hoped it was because she was trying to let them know where she was, but she wasn’t going to count on it.  _Left,_ she decided, trying to sort the racket into something she could make sense of without losing track of something that would get her killed.  Tunnel vision had a way of killing you quicker than helplessness. 

            Steady breath, ears sharp, smooth stalking steps; these assholes had _carpet_ , so she probably didn’t need the quiet, but it was how she’d been taught to keep her balance in a spar, and when she’d had to start fighting in the real world it had gotten to be a way to stay focused. 

            Someone appeared in her path and she shot him in the head before he could finish turning his head to see her.  _One._   Karina shrieked, the sound as much furious as scared, closer now, and Liss grinned.  _Thatta girl.  Make him work for it._   None of them got to be nice girls, not anymore. 

            Not to someone who would do this, and just… not anymore.  The world wouldn’t let them. 

            Everything had changed the spring she turned sixteen.  Business had gone bad and suddenly Dad had had to go to another city to find work, but the next month’s rent was paid, and he had left her enough money to keep her and her eleven-year-old brother fed for maybe a little longer than that, if she was careful.  It had gotten so _cold_ ; snow came and stayed on the ground that winder, even out by the docks, and didn’t show any sign of leaving even late in March. 

            Then Nolan had gotten attacked on his way home from school.  Melissa had always been in martial arts, ever since she was little, but her baby brother hadn’t ever taken an interest.  The boys who’s cornered him had been some war orphan punks, and they hadn’t roughed him up too bad, but they took his coat.  She’d given him hers and stayed wrapped up in a blanket at the house…  She’d hardly been the first to drop out of school that year. 

            And then Dad had called to say he still couldn’t find work.  He was moving to a different city even further away to look, he’d send a check as soon as he could… but rent had gone up.  Their landlord was willing to give them two weeks reprieve, but there was still _nothing_.  They were almost out of food, and the money was gone, and, well… 

            It was easier when she just tried to think of the world as having different rules, now.  It wasn’t new, exactly; Kay had grown up like this.  Karina had too, it was pretty clear, and that was probably why they clicked like they did, defending each other.  It had taken a while, for the rest of them to realize just how bad it was falling apart.  To realize that if they had it bad, they probably weren’t the worst, and that they needed to _find_ their old friends and make sure everyone was okay, that they didn’t have to… 

            Well.  You did things, when things got bad enough, to escape having to do worse things.  That was all.  It didn’t make you bad; just human.  It wasn’t even that hard, if you knew how bad the other choices were, not at the time.  After, when you had all the time in the world to second guess and tear yourself to pieces – that was when you broke. 

            She would have been horrified, before, to think that she could kill a man.  To know that she would start carrying a hammer, because it carried a much better bite than one of her small fists.  Before _Libra_ , she’d had pride in her fighting skill, in tournament trophies, but now it was all brute practicality; she was one of the people who kept their home safe.  It was the least she could do, after Luc had let them come live in what they had eventually started calling the Den. 

            She been a daddy’s girl, before.  She still loved her father dearly, and he _was_ sending checks now, though she just put it all in the bank these days.  But…  The fact was?  He hadn’t been there.  He’d had good reasons, and he’d been doing the best thing he _could_ for them…  But he hadn’t been there when she needed him. 

            Instead, she’d learned the hard way just how fast you could sink lower than you ever thought possible. 

            But it was okay, in the end.  Because Nolan was safe, he was fed, he still going to school, and they were warm at night.  And more often than not anymore, they were even happy too, somehow. 

            Another man started out of a room in the hall she was moving down and she fired the gun almost reflexively; he twitched as went down as blood sprayed across the walls.  She grimaced, cursing mentally and shoving the weapon into the back of her pants; watching his movements.  She didn’t want to wait here, but with how he was thrashing, he might be able to grab her legs if she tried to sidestep.  His throat was gushing blood; she’d already killed him, but his brain didn’t have the memo yet, and- 

            Rina screamed again, all pain and terror, and _close_ ; the door just ahead on the right.  Gritting her teeth, she kicked the bastard hard in the solar plexus and practically leaped over him to throw open the door.  Her family went further than just Nolan now, and someone had threatened that. 

            She would do what she had to. 

-

***

-

**L3-X18999**

            Marie flung the door back in the man’s face with one hand as she kept running, her eyes scanning the hangar.  There was a small ship she didn’t recognize that _might_ work, but it was too far away… she didn’t think she could run faster than the soldier behind her now that he was this close. 

            _There!_   It was even smaller, practically the size of an escape pod, and not as far, parked right up against the flank of a cruiser.  She forced her legs into one last burst of speed, praying it was unlocked. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            Melissa ducked low as soon as she was in the room, feeling rage bubble up even higher in her; Sin was half stripped.  Before the damn Slinger fully realized she was there, she was slamming the head of the hammer into his knee. 

            His scream was bloodcurdling, but she didn’t care; her friend escaped his grasp, half falling as she shambled away  It had been that particular move that had first made this gang wary of her.  She stepped back out of reach incase he had enough mind left to try to grab her, watching him stumble and react for a long moment before shifting her grip and sliding around his back to sink the claw deep into his chest. 

            She had her suspicions about what Sin may have been doing before the baby came, but didn’t give a damn; she was one of theirs now.  Past mistakes weren’t important.  Letting go of the weapon – it would take some doing to get back out of his ribs – she reared back and delivered a sharp punch to the man’s trachea. 

            He dropped like a sack of bricks. 

            She planted one foot on his chest for leverage to get her hammer back out, ignoring the gasping sounds he was making and the blood spurting onto her leg.  “Are you okay?” she demanded of the blonde woman.  Girl, really, but none of them were allowed to be girls anymore, and Rina had a daughter, so she counted anyhow. 

            She was panting, on her knees on the floor.  Her eyes were locked on the dying man.  “I think so,” she croaked out after a moment.  “Renee?” 

            “Home safe,” Melissa assured her, walking over and offering the other a hand up.  She looked awful… but she didn’t see any outright blood.  “We should find a way out.” 

            Karina nodded numbly, accepting the hand and wobbling to a standing position. 

-

***

-

**L3-X18999**

            Adam almost felt like he was in a slow motion dream as he watched the girl child slam _his_ ship door shut behind her and lock it.  Both of their eyes went wide as the machine started up like he had programmed it to in an emergency, and in moments she was gone. 

            _Shit!_   That had to have been the last thing he had expected to happen… and another ship was coming in. 

            _Shit!_   He held up one hand to shield his eyes from the bright lights, dashing back inside the compound.  Zechs’ men were here.  Treize was still inside working his magic… and now _he_ was the one caught between the factions with no escape. 

            He needed to find an alternate route _fast_. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            Karina’s blood ran cold, and she felt more than heard Melissa gasp beside her. 

            There was blood _everywhere_. 

            And in the midst of it, there was a moving black streak whipping around the last three men standing. 

            Her foot touched something and when she looked down she screamed.  It was an arm.  Just a half burned up arm with nothing attached. 

            _Where is everybody?_ she found herself wondering dimly, staring around the room, the floor.  _This can’t be…_  

            And suddenly Luc was there, and she threw her arms around him, sobbing.  This day had just been one huge nightmare.  For a moment she had been terrified that he was on the ground too, and that just would have been too much… 

            It was quiet, suddenly.  She turned away from Luc to see Chaos standing alone in the main living room… in the blood…  God, he was just _covered_ in blood.  His bright blue eyes practically glowing, contrasting so sharply with the gore that it looked like they must belong to some other creature entirely as he looked out at them… 

            “Karina?” 

            She heard herself let out another sob before she practically threw herself at him, refusing to think what she was running over.  He had sounded so shaky, so uncertain, so tired… 

            He had done this for _her_. 

            He caught her up in his arms and held her tight, one hand on the back of her head… and he was crying too, she thought.  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, starting to cry harder.  “God, Kay, I’m so sorry!” 

            “It’s okay…  You’re okay…”  He kissed the top of her head, still holding her tight.  “I was so scared I was too late…” 

            “I thought you weren’t coming…” 

            “I promised I’d come for you a long time ago,” he reminded her, pulling away slightly to offer a weak smile.  He looked back towards the others and started chuckling in the same weak way.  “Hey…” 

            That broke the mood somehow, and Melissa was running over too, pulling the demon into a fierce hug.  After a moment, she grinned up at him and said, “You’re gonna have to share the savior rights; I killed the bastard and took care of at least nine myself.” 

            His laughter was a little more true instead of verging on a hysterical, at that.  “I knew I liked you…” 

            Karina leaned back as Luc put his hands on her shoulders, then wrapped his arms around her.  “Let’s go home.” 

            “Home…” Chaos muttered hollowly, as if confused for a moment… then squeezed Melissa tight against him again.  “Yeah,” he agreed, sounding more solid.  “Let’s go home.” 

-

***

-

**L3-X18999**

            David Mitchell hid a smile as he led his men into an almost empty base, ordering them to spread out and search in small groups – cleanly from their end to the other, to be thorough – and broke away with just Campbell and Thorly.  They grinned openly at each other, sprinting for the auditorium where Treize had planned to gather everyone and face off Dekim, if he was given the option. 

            He burst into the room, yelling, “Sir!” as loud as he could, getting immediate attention… and grinned broadly at the image of his leader.  He was in standard issue pants from his days with the Specials and a plain white undershirt, but the simplicity of it only seemed to make him grander.  He was here for them, just like them, in the end… and Treize Khushrenada wouldn’t let his men down. 

            Dekim was dead, and his leader’s expression was pointedly pissed, but he smirked and nodded at David, turning back to the crowd.  The explanation that there had been fighting among the group was simple, and there was a promise that he would seek them out again when the time was right; to please get out if they could.  It was time to evacuate.  He nodded at Mitchell and his men, and they saluted sharply before darting back out to rush to their stations, back to the search and away from suspicion. 

            No one would report that Treize Khushrenada had been here tonight; a separate detachment would be picking him up not far from Dekim’s base of operations. 

-

***

-

 **July 7 th 197 – Friday** – **Vilnius, Lithuania**

            It was cold…  Why was it so _cold_? 

            Dawn was breaking as she landed in what looked like in the outskirts of a big city.  She had read something about a cloaking device on the main screen being turned on.  This was Earth, she had seen it on the approach…  

            But wasn’t it July? 

            All her plans were moot; this was _Earth_.  It would have been stupid and wrong to break away from the Peacecraft Regime, but she couldn’t go to the government _here_.  She was a _Barton_ ; as soon as they realized that, she’d be taken as a political prisoner a la _hostage_ , and when her grandfather refused to meet terms or pay for her, she didn’t _want_ to know what they’d do.  Milliardo Peacecraft was a madman, and the fact that the White Fang radicals had taken up residence on Earth as the Peacecraft Regime, which just _proved_ how crazy they were. 

            Her teeth wouldn’t stop chattering.  The ship had been on autopilot, somehow; it might be decently warm, but she didn’t want to stay there long enough for Grandfather to track it.  And the cloaking system that had gotten her through the atmosphere had shut down after landing; she could get arrested if she was found in something like that, minor or no.  So, wrapping her arms around herself, she stepped out into the street. 

            It was wet. 

            Her tank top was thin and her slippers would soak through before long… and she had no idea where to go. 

            Walking would help her think, maybe? 

            She couldn’t read the street signs; they weren’t in a language she knew.  The letters were right, but the words were nonsense…   _Where **am** I?_  

            The first big street was still mostly empty.  The sky was getting brighter, but everything was shades of grey…  The streets were cobblestone.  The people all looked so sad… 

            _Oh God… this is **Earth** …_  All of her teachers’ lectures on the condition of the planet, all the magazine and news articles she’d looked up – they’d seemed like over exaggerations.  But it was so _cold_ … 

            And she was all alone. 

            She sank down to the ground, not caring that her pants were getting wet, just staring. 

            This had been a horrible mistake. 

-

***

-

            Heero shrugged his pack a little further onto his shoulder, walking briskly down the street.  He’d tracked Wufei here, and it was likely that the man was still out on the sparse streets of the early morning.  _This is it, almost there…_  

            He turned down an alley and started towards a main, and saw a man with dark hair running.  His pack was the right size and shape.  He started to run after him, willing his leg to cooperate- 

            And saw a little girl staring out at nothing from under a shop overhang.  She was turning as blue as her eyes, without a coat… but it was those eyes that caught him off guard.  They looked… blank. 

            _…Was that me?_   Dr. J had said he had good eyes, but he had never figured out what the old man meant. 

            He glanced back after Wufei, but he was gone; if that had even been him. 

            The girl was sinking down to the ground, and her eyes weren’t changing… and it had just finished raining.  _She’s going to get hypothermia if she does that._   Making up his mind, he started to walk toward her, dropping his duffel down onto his arm so he could shrug out of one side of his coat, then slinging the pack onto the other shoulder so he could get it the rest of the way off.  He had a few sweaters on besides, and his duffel kept a watertight seal, so he didn’t think anything of dropping it on the ground so he could crouch in front of her and settle his down jacket over her shoulders. 

            She looked up at him in surprise, and he tried to smile for her, bringing her hands together in front of her and clasping them inside his, blowing warm air on her fingers like he remembered Odin had done for him when he was little.  She was maybe a few years older than he had been when his father died, but she probably knew less of the world. 

            “Hey,” he muttered as a soft greeting, making her rub her hands together.  “Are you alright?” 

            She started crying suddenly, throwing herself into his arms; he caught her, though awkwardly, not sure exactly what to do.  He hadn’t expected that… but maybe Mrs. Srona had prepared him for this, a little.  Holding her tight, he was dismayed when she only started crying _harder_ … and the coat was falling off. 

            He snatched it before it could fall on the ground, pulling away from her and making her put her arms in it this time.  He hesitated briefly before giving in to his worry and reaching his arms in and pulling her into a hug under the coat instead of zipping it up.  It was too big for her by a fair bit, and it was only nylon on the inside, not something warm and soft like his sweater.  “You’re going to freeze,” he muttered uncomfortably.  “Where are your parents?”  Parents were supposed to take care of children. 

            _But parents can die._  

            “I don’t know,” she whispered after a moment, burying her face in his chest, wrapping her arms around him again.  “Gone.  I don’t even know where I _am_ …” 

            That sounded like a colony accent.  It certainly wasn’t Lithuanian, at any rate.  Her English seemed perfect, even through the sobs. 

            It was then that he realized he’d already made his decision. 

            “I’m Odin,” he offered. 

            “Mariemaia,” she returned quickly. 

            He frowned, looking around.  “Do you have any things?” 

            She held tighter to him.  “No,” she whispered. 

            His resolve hardened, and he looked around for an inn; maybe that was one, down the street.  “Let’s get inside,” he suggested, pulling one arm away from her to put the strap of his duffel back over his shoulder, and hesitated briefly before tucking his arm back around her and lifting her up with him as he stood.  Whatever she had on her feet were already soaked through; he needed to get her someplace warm.  His leg complained, but if he had been ready to sprint, he could carry her. 

            “Thank-you,” she whispered into his neck, fingering the collar of his sweater. 

            He didn’t answer for a moment, not sure entirely how.  He didn’t know what he would have done if no one had taken him up back on L3-X18999, and he had known how to take care of himself, while she clearly didn’t.  Leaving her would have been… wrong. 

            She sighed a little and relaxed into him more, and he couldn’t help but smile a little.  Maybe she hadn’t been looking for an answer.  He frowned.  _But maybe…_   “I’m from the L1 cluster,” he muttered, shifting her up a little higher on his hips. 

            She wrapped her legs around him, which confused him for a moment… until he realized that that made it _much_ easier to settle her weight.  “L3,” she whispered back.  “It’s so _cold_ here…” 

            He smiled at that too.  He wasn’t sure why she made that so easy… but he liked it.  “Climate control is considerably more pleasant,” he agreed. 

            She giggled a little at that.  “Yeah…  I guess we’re both far away from home, huh?” 

            _I’ve never really had a home._   The closest thing he could think of was the Sronas… and he supposed that was far away too.  “Yeah,” he agreed after a moment, looking up at the sign and nodding to himself; it was an inn, like he’d thought.  “I guess we are.” 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**


	22. Deception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is willing to lie about something; the harder question is when to stop and be honest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this would be an easy chapter to edit, especially after 21. It turned into the opposite. The political motivations of all parties involved aren't hand-waved anymore, though, which is awesome, and once again, we have a little more backstory and depth included; in truth, a lot of the editing actually had nothing to do with this chapter, but realizing I'd forgotten to even look at the Winner sisters scene in Ch. 4 when I started this. 
> 
> So, non-necessary to plot, but I highly suggest checking out the first scene of Ch. 4 When the Thorn Looks Attractive again. There's a lot of insight there now about the Winner family and their politics, some of which David Mitchell references in his first scene here, and the two compliment each other. Additionally, it now drops information you might find useful later. 
> 
> Enjoy! I'll start working on 23 tonight.

**-**

_**Deception** _

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**July 7 th 197 – Friday – Brussels, Belgium**

            David Mitchell grimaced as his superior looked up from his desk, knowing he didn’t have exactly great news.  He wasn’t actually upset about it, but by his cover, he should be. 

            It wouldn’t look right, if a man loyal to the Peacecraft Regime was happy about a mostly failed mission. 

            Lee motioned for him to begin his debriefing, so he launched into a detailed explanation about why they had only captured approximately a quarter of Dekim Barton’s men. 

            The short version boiled down to the idea that the faction had been unstable even before they had received enough intelligence to act, due to several factors.  True to character, Barton had been building a up a rather convenient empire backed on lies, the details far more extensive than anyone had realized before digging through the man’s personal files and servers.  _Well, as much as anyone managed to get before the Foundation Legacy Board washed their hands of him and turned us out of their system._   Thought to be fair, they claimed they had given up all the information they had relating to Dekim’s crimes, and the data dump was turning out to be significantly more than IT had expected to dig up.  Unsurprisingly, the Board had held an emergency meeting as soon as they caught wind of the strike and in light of his actions, unanimously voted to depose Dekim in favor of his legal heir.  Who they then dodged naming entirely, but _had_ to be Mariemaia. 

            It was a very smooth way to legally sidestep what could otherwise be a catastrophic disaster for L3.  By the post-Fall negotiations Zechs had signed with each of the colony clusters – primarily through copious manipulation à la Dorothy and questionable intimidation of Winner women he’d successfully detained – the Regime’s right to evidence seizure only applied to individuals.  Consequently, it then only applied to business rights and restriction when the Foundation Head was the culprit, which meant that removing his titles and effectively tossing Dekim under the bus was an effective method of survival. 

            _Someone was very sure to learn from the Winner Corporation’s mistakes,_ David thought, amused in spite of himself.  Not that mistake was quite the right word; the Winners had already been backed into a corner by their previous Head’s bullheaded refusal to play ball when OZ came to space as the Alliance’s more peaceful replacement.  His death in September of 195 had…  Well, it had been the beginning of the end of a lot of things, OZ included.  In any case, the Winner Corp Board had swept in afterwards and brought a magnifying glass down on the incident, soothing the public and Romefeller with trumped up assurances that they were ‘investigating the extent of the corruption.’  OZ had taken that as a concession – especially as negotiations had immediately reopened in response to Zayeed Winner’s assassination – and the bulk of the military moved on. 

            Yet, three months later had seen OZ with only a token presence in L4, a deep sense of foul play in the mind of its citizens, and the Winner Corporation reorganized and more popular than ever for it.  By the time _Libra_ had gone down, the smear campaigns against the previous Head had disappeared, replaced by stories of a well-meaning but regrettably traditionalist old man whose final days were surrounded by blatantly conflicting evidence.  At some point it had become common knowledge that the protests over mission statements and policy changes that were only rumored – never released or implemented.  This was then highlighted by OZ’s sudden, violent intervention leading to the death of a man who had never done anything but persistently preach total pacifism. 

            Somehow, everyone involved in the incident had come out of it looking some mixture of guilty or manipulated by a power that had since dissolved, spawning conspiracy theory. 

            In short, the Winners had done an alarmingly good job of playing victim when they were at _least_ as culpable as everyone else, and despite the _newer_ smear campaigns the Regime had employed, despite the loss of the Winner Corporation’s presence in the political scene?  They were still a household name.  The more inactive they became, the more solidly the colonists held Winner Corp as the gold standard to which any new trade or mining operation compared.  Winner safety conditions, Winner innovations, Winner mission statements, Winner… _everything_ was still the ideal to chase. 

            The firmer Zechs appeared to take them in hand the more it looked like butter wouldn’t melt in Atia Winner’s mouth, and David had the sinking feeling that this?  This was exactly how all those Alliance officers had felt when working with Treize and the Specials all those years.  At this point, he personally wasn’t convinced the Winners were actually conceding anything.  They might just be following the steps of their latest five-year-plan to take over space, only this time without anyone noticing until it was too late. 

            Whatever his own damn conspiracy theories, though, on paper the Winners _had_ lost tragically, and the Bartons – notably the assholes who had sourced Operation Meteor and some other truly fucked up shit – had planned things just so in order to slip the noose even in the event of Dekim’s failure.  The story went like so: 

            Unbeknownst to the Foundation Board, Dekim – their representative had blandly admitted that they had rather low oversight abilities in their charter – had fabricated a few key facts in order to draw together splintered Treize loyalists both native to space and American.  The first were the precise treaty terms with the Regime, and what qualified as a violation; more than a few captured men had already insisted that they were only meant to be a peacekeeping force within L3 with a focus on changing public opinion to uphold Treize’s legacy, not an advancing army. They appeared to genuinely believe it. 

            That naivete of that had blown initially David’s mind away, seeing as this was _The Barton Foundation_ , but when he had tried to point that out, the response had been remarkably clever.  Apparently old man Barton had managed to fudge the records and exploit how poorly he had aged in such a way that these saps believed that he had been effectively retired for the past five years, leaving the day-to-day running of his legacy to his son, Trowa.  According to this theory, Operation Meteor had been entirely _Trowa Barton_ ’s undertaking, and was, in truth, a deep shame Dekim was attempting to atone for by taking the reins once again instead of allowing control of his company fall heavily on the shoulders of his young, orphaned granddaughter. 

            Also, incidentally did you know that before her death, his daughter Leia had been Treize Khushrenada’s sweetheart?  It was a _terrible_ youthful indiscretion, of course, and he’d been furious at the time, but how could he look at his beautiful grandchild, so _clever_ already at only nine years old, and see anything but a brighter future?  A future they had to protect from villains so vile as Milliardo Peacecraft, the maniac that had tried to massacre their home world. 

            Making Marie younger had been a nice touch; teenage pregnancy at sixteen sketched people out a lot less than _fourteen_ , for all that Treize and Leia had both always been steadfast about not regretting it.  Saying Leia was dead, they had expected, seeing as the asshole had filed her death certificate back in 194; Treize had been an inconsolable mess for two damn weeks until they had been able to independently verify that it was a Jane Doe in her grave.  In all likelihood, the whole thing had probably been a push from _Leia_ to distance herself from her family – it had too many earmarks of Jake’s dirty tactics and not enough sheer money to feel like Dekim. 

            In short, no one had done their damn _research_ because they heard a sob story that had all the hope highlights they secretly wanted.  Legacy, honor, family, validation, and righting wrongs.  Dekim had his all their emotional soft spots and mixed his bullshit with _just_ enough truth to make it look like a fantastic chance for mutual repentance that so many soldiers craved. 

            It had always blown David’s mind away, how Dekim could be such a foul excuse of a human being yet so very good at playing a crowd. 

            After the emotional blackmail was accounted for, there was a third angle.  The Board claimed recent knowledge of a handful of back room deals that were shady as hell – either planted by the Board to inflame everyone’s sensibilities or actual plans, it was hard to say with Dekim – and could indicate very few things _but_ militarized revolt. 

            Fourth: there were damningly intricate plans to covertly bolster his numbers with dolls in the encrypted portion of his personal server. 

            That alone would have been enough to hang him by all of the current political parties.  Even the Romefeller remnants in the Middle East and Eastern States that Zechs had only managed to isolate instead of disarm or swallow whole didn’t have a good opinion of the damn things, though David expected they would be the first to change their tune if they found a way to do it without committing political suicide.  For now, at least, human memory and the sheer trauma of the losses caused by _Libra_ made it too sensitive of a subject for anyone to be comfortable voicing. 

            Topping all of this off was the barebones evidence: Dekim Barton had been found dead upon arrival.  A few other men had been shot down as well, but not many, and their sneak attack had only captured approximately a third of the troops previously anticipated. 

            Without any knowledge of Treize’s survival, let alone his excursion last night, all signs pointed to someone in Barton’s entourage realizing he was running a long con with their lives as his stakes and gotten upset about it, striking an internal collapse of the faction that lead to an outbreak of violence followed by mass desertion mere hours before the arrival of the Regime strike force.  Their informant had also gone silent, but he had been anonymous to start with. 

            David wasn’t in the know about if that had been a Treize loyalist passing information on because he knew Váli’s hole in digital security would see it to Treize, or a loyalist who had genuinely thought the man dead and knew enough to want to put Barton in the ground.  Either way, it would have been better to leave with Treize than own up to it with the Regime; the downside of running an op like last night was that there were so _many_ mouths that could give the game away. 

            But the really impressive thing about the effect his old friend had on people was the fact that no one was saying a _word_. 

            “And the girl?”  Lee asked gruffly as his debrief wound down. 

            “Nowhere to be found, sir,” Mitchell explained with another grimace.  “We know she was there earlier in the day, but nothing since she went to bed.  What may have been an escape pod exited immediately upon our arrival and it’s possible that she might have been on board.  Our men are searching the rest of the colony for her now, but the pod has yet to send out an emergency signal.  So far, everyone who has been questioned seems to be confused that she was not in her room.”  He had no news from Treize yet, but he fervently hoped that she was with her father instead of alone at some random destination.  He had orchestrated a completely thorough search of Dekim’s compound, and while they had found definite signs of her presence, they had had no luck finding the child herself.  “She might also be with the missing troops, sir, provided they did not simply disperse and return to normal life.” 

            “You believe that is a possibility?” the old war hawk demanded. 

            “They were Dekim’s men, and then they deserted,” David pointed out with an annoyed look and a shrug, like he held to the common opinion of deserters.  “At this point, I’m unwilling to rule out anything.” 

            As expected, General Lee looked less than pleased.  He accepted the verbal debriefing, however, gave a time he expected the written report by, and repeated that he wished to be informed of any progress with the prisoners immediately.  Mitchell saluted and excused himself. 

            It was better to get the story down on paper, solidified and compared to Campbell and Thorly’s for discrepancies before the details began to escape him.  He found, at least personally, that it was better to forget the real details as much as possible and memorize the reported ones when trying at this kind of deception; compartmentalize, then sever.  Then he could pass on the report to Váli, who got to notify Treize when it was all said and done, though that had to be done more subtly.  Being the go-between was, in a lot of ways, far more dangerous than _getting_ classified information.  Most who took on that role never read what was sent simply for their own integrity.  If you didn’t know anything you weren’t supposed to, it was hard to be identified as disloyal. 

            Váli wasn’t most people; he was just _that good_.  It made David’s part easier, but… also more nerve-wracking, sometimes. 

            For the most part, he disliked any of this sneaky business… he honestly didn’t have the head for it, and he knew it enough to box himself into his own role.  If he didn’t have to _think_ of it as espionage, just running support again, he was a lot less likely to slip.  But then there were details he could miss if he got too deep in that kind of tunnel vision, and… 

            He was pretty sure he had seen someone important last night. 

            He had a thing for faces; his memory wasn’t bad overall, but shapes, physical visual memory, was his strongest aspect of retention.  His instructors had recognized the utility of that when he was fairly young and pushed his spatial and geographical training, but he’d never turned into one of those guys who could look at a map or schematic of something and recreate it later, the way they’d hoped.  It hadn’t been until he’d found himself in the same classes as Duke Prodigy Khushrenada that anyone realized that while he was a wash for that sort of espionage, he _could_ map landscapes and battlefields with little more than a glance; it was _natural_ curves that made the most sense to him.  After that distinction had been made? 

            The Specials probably would have been willing to foot the bill for his art classes.  But by that point, Treize had become a _friend_ , not just the snotty kid they had to tolerate because he could best them all with one hand tied behind his back and still be unerringly polite about it.  When the younger boy had asked to attend the same classes, it had been shrugged off as a typical preference of the gentry.  Then after a few of the guys had seen Dave successfully pick up a few girls with something about ‘you have beautiful facial structure, can I draw you?’ they had assumed that _that_ was why their resident noblebrat wanted to do art, never mind that Treize never tried – first he was too young, and then he had been completely hung up on Leia _despite_ being too damn young.  Later, when asked, he would sigh and make up a line about how his mother had _insisted_ he pick up a gentleman’s hobby, and he refused to shoot skeet. 

            That one was hilarious; Treize didn’t shoot skeet because it was _boring_.  It had taken David all of two weeks to work out that Treize was sketch artist classes despite being absolutely terrible at it because his involvement meant the absolute best tutors came on base to teach _Dave_.  Because David genuinely enjoyed it,  and as the tutoring grew more and more advanced, it gave them time to hang out for no good reason.  OZ only would have bothered to teach him enough to identify suspects, not mock up full portraiture, or all the other little extras they had included to try teasing some talent out of the future Duke Khushrenada. 

            Watching Treize intentionally do _worse_ just to pick at their instructors and watch them attempt to not pull out their hair was one of the highlights of those years before Jake and bulldozed into their lives.  The kid had been a raging ball of enigma from day one; made Treize look like small fry when it came to sheer power and bratty pride in an even _smaller_ package, minus the old money airs Treize couldn’t seem to _not_ put on.  Even if Amarianna hadn’t basically dropped him in their laps and told them to play nice, Dave probably would have tried to keep him. 

            So Treize had gotten him his start with art, but becoming Jake’s friend, tagging along through the whatever trouble the little shit dug up had been what kept it going when no one really _asked_ a ranking officer for that kind of thing anymore.  It might have started as utility, but Jake was the one who would drag him out to lunch then challenge him to draw the waitress who’d served their lunch; who would pick his brain for details about this or that place they’d seen the day before and made him _realize_ he could remember a complicated scene like a crowded town square or kitchen with enough detail to identify strangers.  Jake had been the one to prompt games with it until David started to pick up body language at the same time, mood at a glance from memory on paper or in real time.  It was a skill that had saved his life more than once… 

            …and it was a skill that left him almost _positive_ he knew the man he saw as he pulled into the bay of Dekim’s hangar last night.  He wasn’t even sure what it was exactly that had clicked, but he thought if he could sit and draw, maybe he could figure it out. 

            It couldn’t have _just_ been recognition; David recognized a lot of total strangers all the time as an irritating side effect of how his brain recognized patterns.  If he saw someone more than once, he’d know them.  But he’d also spent time memorizing pictures of dangerous people – and this one had set off alarm bells.  If he really had seen someone like that, he needed to figure it out before he passed report to Váli. 

            God, but he could hardly wait until Relena was in charge; he didn’t know her that well yet, but already he could tell she would be an improvement on her brother.  She had an open mind and while she felt strongly, she fought logically, reining herself in when her wants didn’t line up with reality.  It would be good to get the secrecy done with too.  Personally, he thought that she was safe to approach now, but others didn’t agree with him, and it was too dangerous for a lot of people other than him if they were right and he wrong.  Others were at work on determining how trustworthy she was, and how friendly she might be toward what groups, but that sort of evaluation took time.  He wasn’t in that sort of position of power, he knew, because he didn’t have patience for it. 

            A successful, healthy revolution required all sorts of people, and he had his own role to play.  Not many had so much combat skill as he did, and he enjoyed his job, for all that it would be better if he could go over Noe Lee’s head. 

            And Relena was working on that, too.  It still might not happen until they experienced some kind of disaster, but she honestly saw the point in putting together the strike force, which had seemed odd at first, with her history of pacifism.  Then again, he could hardly talk; he’d been a citizen of Sanc, both as a child and when he’d dropped out of OZ and gone back during her depressingly short rule in 195. 

            Everything had been so fucked by that point, he just… he’d wanted a little time to get his head on straight, and Treize had already run and Jake had stopped answering phone calls again, so he’d decided to say fuck it and follow Lu’s example.  She’d obviously had her shit more together than the rest of them anyway. 

            But the fact was, they needed the Strike Force.  Maybe they’d already ridden out the most critical chapter of a post-apocalyptic event where total societal collapse had stopped being a looming threat, but they were a long way from the end of this little saga.  The edges of the world were getting edgier, darker, and while he got that Zechs felt like he needed to prioritize shit like Po’s rebels? 

            Po’s people weren’t trying new world order shit.  The news coming out of Africa was starting to get genuinely fucking terrifying in that _it wasn’t isolated anymore_ , and the warren of American refugee camps kept just… they kept blipping right off the map. 

            Entire towns, just disappeared.  Some of them were shitty shanty-towns, sure, but they weren’t _empty_ , they were _gone_ , and if that didn’t set off some gooseflesh it was because you hadn’t really thought about what that _meant_.  The weather changes were doing some insane stuff to the geography, and that level of alteration meant weird shit could happen, but for satellite to lose all sign meant that not only were the people dead or moved away, but that _the buildings were razed down to nothing_.  There was an extremely large paramilitary group evolving and spreading throughout the Sahara like a disease, pillaging like Vikings and three of the last five planes to fly over the center of it had been _shot down_. 

            And that was without going into the gangs in the heavy urban areas, the developing _mobs_ , the riots, the latest evolutions and depravities in the drug trade, the goddamn _cults_ springing up, an entire little village in the east had nearly starved to death last month and no one had _known_ until it was turned devastating, and there were three more where someone had gone by to check in and found eighty percent of an area wiped out by disease. 

            Some kind of bacteria in the water – that was all it had taken.  With resources stretched so thin, communication lines so minimal, they hadn’t realized what was happening until too late, and then they didn’t have the supplies they needed to combat it, or without the technicians and medical professionals, so many people had just… died.  Just like that. 

            And then there were people, rebels or otherwise, stealing the little these poor fucking people had not because they needed it, but because some of it fetched a decent price on the black market. 

            It made him want to scream, just thinking about it 

            The domestic end, the poverty, he couldn’t do much about.  Zechs had entire departments working on that.  Jake said Relena was grabbing the bull by the horns too, though most of what he’d been muttering about for the last few weeks was urban statistics, crime rates and unemployment – the other colonel wouldn’t pass _actual_ details before they were released, but he caught bits of the research.  He didn’t even understand half the terms Rome and Kelly would throw around when he crashed one of their lunches, and that was fine.  But they also needed to deal with the pirates and mobsters, the slave traders and powerful fanatics. 

            Hence, the birth of the Strike Force concept.  Not a true branch of the army – at least, not associated with the rest of the rank and file.  It needed to have its own internal command structure and a guiding charter to keep it on task and remove any risk of it becoming what it was made to destroy, without dealing with the concerns of the army. 

            The issue with making it _happen_ inside the Regime was largely political, and he’d only gotten into the Regime with such high rank because Jake, who had Zechs’ ear, had vouched for him.  He didn’t have a network, no weight he could throw around outside the loyalists, and they _needed_ to stay spread out and under the radar.    His career with OZ was stable until he’d jumped ship – and enough others had done that long before he did that people didn’t really give a damn following Treize’s refusal to work with dolls and subsequent house arrest – but it wasn’t exceptional either.  He wasn’t the kind of guy people really remembered. 

            Which had, of course, been the cornerstone of his success; the corruption in the Alliance had run so wide and deep that the amount of cloak and dagger required to get within even three years of Operation Daybreak had been… depressing.  For a while, getting closer to doing the right thing had meant doing a lot of really heartless, viscerally upsetting work that they had buried so deeply those mission reports were redacted into little more than nonsensical phrases – when they hadn’t been off entirely off the books in the first place. 

            But he’d been freaking out about this long enough now that he was past the point of hoping someone else would solve it for him.  Jake would have woken him up in the middle of the night with a manic grin and a deceptively plausible master plan by now if there was an easy way.  So, noticeable or not, if he piled up enough evidence up and waited for the right moment, he was pretty sure even a nobody could get it pushed through. 

            If he started to fumble it, he was mostly sure he could rely on Jake waltzing into his room to sit on him in the middle of the night to complain about everything he’d had to do to fix it.  Jake was a good bro like that. 

            It would be easier if he could do it independently, but it just wasn’t an option.  Treize didn’t have the people necessary for the job unless you counted the ones seeded through the Regime.  Treize also couldn’t afford the attention that such a force would attract, hence the need to outsource; but then that got tricky when it came to keeping the group from becoming the Regime’s favorite bully technique.  But if the Strike Force was technically Regime founded and they made sure _David_ led it, or was at least in a high position?  He could more than double both their network and their ability to respond to trouble hotspots.  He could… 

            _…God, I need to sleep._   It had been a damn long night, and he’d been too jittery to catch a nap between learning they were attacking the _same day_ and arriving at L3-X18999. 

            _Rough draft the report, sketch, and nap.  Do the rest this afternoon._   Annoying paper to make up and secrets to sort keep in check or no, it shouldn’t be too bad of a day.  Jake had offered to let him crash in his old office so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the noise in the barracks; he wasn’t really using the space now that he was on Relena’s detail, and David could sleep as long and deeply as he liked in the blackout area.  His life would feel a lot less daunting after some quality shut-eye.  After he woke up could find lunch, coordinate with the boys, then the rest of the day was free, so he might find something fun to do.  Let loose a little.  He wasn’t sure what just yet, but he was pretty sure he’d earned it.

           

-

***

-

**Vilnius, Lithuania**

            Heero bit his lip, not entirely sure what to do.  Mariemaia was taking a shower to warm up in the hotel room he had gotten them, and he had taken the jeans and slippers down establishment’s laundry room and thrown them in the dryer.  He could put her in one of his sweaters when she got out, but after that? 

            The problem with following your heart was that it meant acting on impulse sometimes, and he had no plan.  She had needed help… so he’d helped.  Beyond that?  He wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to feed her or immediately take her to the police station… which would be unnerving at best. 

            How _had_ she gotten to Lithuania, anyway? 

            The water turned off, and he frowned, looking at his watch.  “We still have ten minutes before your clothes are dry,” he called softly.  “So you might want to just get back in for a while.”  Eastern Europe wasn’t a pleasant place to be unless you were completely dry and fully clothed; it had been like that even before the Fall.  He frowned, though; if she got back in, it would be longer before they could go back out and get this mess taken care of because, at minimum, her hair would take a while to dry.  “Wait,” he called quickly, digging through his bag for one of the pairs of leggings he wore under his jeans; they would be big, but the extra fabric could just be scrunched.  Having come across them and realizing they might also be a good idea, he grabbed a pair of socks and before knocking on the door with one finger.  “You can wear these until your jeans are dry.”  She hadn’t tossed the tank top she had been wearing earlier out with the rest of her clothes, so he assumed she still had it. 

            The door opened a crack and he turned his head away, reaching his hand in and proffering up the clothes.  She took them and he pulled his hand back, allowing the door to shut.  After a moment, she softly said, “Thank-you.” 

            She said that a lot.  He shrugged a little uncomfortably, sitting down against the wall by the bathroom door.  “Are you feeling better?” 

            “Yes, very much.”  He could hear her getting dressed. 

            He nodded a little to himself, absently massaging his bad leg.  She was quiet for a while… and for some reason, the silence seemed… awkward.  He would have ignored that, generally, but…  “After you’re okay again… what do we do?”  She didn’t answer right away, and he tried to find the words to explain.  “Am I supposed to take you to the police station?”  He knew what Dr. J had done with him wasn’t appropriate, but he _had_ asked if he wanted to be a gundam pilot, and he _had_ agreed, so it wasn’t like it hadn’t been fair. 

            The door opened, and she peered wide-eyed at him.  “I can’t go to the police,” she negated quickly, though her voice was still soft. 

            He blinked.  That hadn’t been the response he was expecting… but a tiny bit of relief ran through him at it.  “What do we do then?” 

            She gave him a confused look.  “I…  I don’t know.” 

            He found himself looking back at her with an equally confused one for a moment.  Wasn’t a normal lost child supposed to want to go home?  He hadn’t had a home, so that had been different; the closest thing he had had was Odin, but he’d died.  “Won’t the police be able to take you home?” he asked curiously.  He had thought they took care of that.  If they didn’t, then wouldn’t she know who did? 

            She swallowed.  “You can’t trust Peacecraft,” she blurted after a moment, flushing. 

            He nodded agreeably at that, considering.  He certainly couldn’t go to the police for help, but…  “He shouldn’t notice a colony girl wanting to go home,” he muttered finally.  Going _in_ to the station seemed like a worse and worse idea the more he thought about it, though.  “I could drop you off outside and… you have relatives that will vouch for you, don’t you?” 

            Mariemaia’s eyes narrowed.  “Why don’t _you_ want to go in?” 

            He grimaced, thinking about how to say it.  “I don’t want any attention from Peacecraft,” he settled on eventually. 

            Her look was incredulous.  “And you think I _do_?” 

            “He shouldn’t pose a threat to you,” Heero explained, glaring at her until she stopped looking at him like he was stupid. 

            She frowned, looking away.  Heero frowned too, wondering what she was thinking about.  Despite the condition he had found her in, she was quickly proving she was intelligent. 

            “You fought against him as a soldier?” she finally asked. 

            Her eyes were more curious than anything, but that was a very dangerous question.  He continued to simply look at her. 

            The girl crossed her arms and returned his look with a somewhat annoyed one.  She soon lost her patience and shook her head, however.  “You’re from the colonies, aren’t you?  You fought for the colonies but not with White Fang?” 

            She had deduced that far too fast for his liking.  However, if she had decided that much, and obviously didn’t want anything to do with even the Earth’s _police_?  “I was part of Operation Meteor,” he admitted after a moment, watching for her reaction carefully.  Children were… odd, he was realizing. 

            Her eyes went wide again, and she seemed to be having a hard time breathing.  “Did you know my uncle, Trowa Barton?” 

            _Trowa._   But the Trowa he had met during the war hadn’t been the real Trowa Barton any more than he was the real Heero Yuy.  “No.  I was…”  He frowned again, looking at her.  If she was Trowa Barton’s niece, then she was a Barton.  He had no idea why a Barton child would be on Earth, but she obviously knew a bit about Operation M.  And… 

            She was staring at him half scared, looking ready to run… but her eyes were full of hope.  He let out an inner sigh; he’d said enough already.  “I was in a different division.  The L1 cluster.” 

            She looked disappointed, but nodded, looking up at him seriously as she pulled the towel tighter around her shoulders.  “I can’t go back; my grandfather will find me.  He… I don’t know why he wants me, but…  I ran away.” 

            That would explain the way she was dressed, at least.  It also made the situation far touchier than he had originally thought; if she was found, she would be in trouble in a likely extreme way, from his experience with Dekim Barton.  The Barton Foundation was… often unpleasant.  And if she had been used as a figurehead before, Zechs would want to keep her locked up where no one could find her again. 

            They _were_ alike.  They both needed to stay on the run, now.  “I’m trying to find a friend,” he began slowly.  “Someone else from Meteor.  …You can come with me, if you want.” 

            Her eyes first lit up brightly, then she sobered as she seemed to consider it more critically; that was a good sign.  She was intelligent; just excitable, maybe, like Duo.  He glanced to his watch.  “I need to go get your clothes.  They should be dry by now.” 

            As he went back down to the laundry room, he started going over details.  They would have to find her more clothes… which meant staying in town longer than he had wanted.  He sighed.  He was going to have to pick up Wufei’s scent again instead of being practically on top of him, but he’d likely fallen back into that position as soon as he decided to help her out on the street, and he’d known that then.  They would only get one or two changes of clothes and warm things for now…  She had probably left a trail leading straight to Vilnius, it would be better to move before the search came down on them.  And people really _would_ be looking for her, so they had to do something about that. 

            He brushed his bangs out of his eyes as he came down the last of the stairs, and realized what might be an ideal solution.  Quickly gathering up the jeans, he realized the slippers were still no good, and set the dryer to run them again.  Folding the pants neatly, he set a brisk walk out of the hotel and into the convenience store a few meters down the street.  They had sandwiches and fruit, and a few other things, which he put on the counter, paying quickly before returning to the hotel room. 

            Mariemaia looked up, seeming determined as he entered.  “I want to go with you,” she told him.  “But after we find your friend… can we find my mother?” 

            He frowned.  “You don’t know where she is?” 

            She looked down.  “We haven’t lived together in… not since 193.  Her number was just on speed-dial and she always came to me for visits.  I…  I didn’t ask where she settled.”  She shrugged a little, and for a moment he worried that she might start crying; instead, something shifted and she looked nothing more than exhausted.  _Exhausted,_ he realized.  _And determined._  

            _…I can relate to that._   Sometimes, it felt like that was all his life had ever been. 

            Letting out a slow breath, she stood up a little straighter, though her focus stayed off to one side, instead of meeting him directly.  “I was… upset.  It was stupid, but I did it, and every way I can think to get those numbers all lead back to Grandfather, and… I _can’t_ do that.”  Licking her lips, she met his eyes, doggedly resolute. 

            She paused and licked her lips before meeting his eyes, gaze even more doggedly resolute now.  “My uncle always said there were ways of finding people, otherwise there wouldn’t be so many ways to hide.  She’s an emergency room physician, 178 cm tall, blue-green eyes, and the last time I saw her on the phone, her hair was mid-length, blonde, and wavy; that’s natural, for her.  She usually picks a birth year between 172 and 178.”  All that was delivered calmly, rehearsed, and she pursed her lips after finishing, like she wanted to say more, but just finished with, “Could you find her, with that?” 

            He didn’t think he’d seen that level of _will_ in anyone since _Libra_.  His heart wanted to pick up its pace, and he almost let it, not having realized how much he had _missed_ this, whatever this was. 

            “It might take a while,” he warned.  It wasn’t a question of if he could do it, but how much data would have to be parsed, then the legwork involved; he could only cut so many corners, and mankind was spread wide across the planet and space alike. 

            _Smaller search radius than two years ago, though._  

            Marie shrugged, watching him.  “I figured.” 

            “I’m in the middle of something right now,” he added.  “I can’t commit to it until after we’ve caught Wufei.” 

            Curiosity light up her eyes.  “We’re chasing him?” 

            “He doesn’t know we’re looking for him,” he agreed, feeling himself smile again.  She… was sweet.  It was like Relena all over again, in a way; just smaller. 

            And there was something nice about saying ‘we’ instead of thinking ‘I’.  “He’s running from some other people,” he added.  “So he doesn’t know he keeps missing me.” 

            “Oh…”  She looked thoughtful for a moment, her eyes brightening more, turning almost colorless, they were so pale.  “Wufei Chang?” she chirped in excitement.  “The gundam pilot?” 

            His smile stretched itself somehow as he nodded.  She practically bounced… and he added, “I was one too.” 

            Gasping, she looked him up and down, biting her lip in concentration.  He didn’t try to hold back the smile.  “My code name was Heero Yuy.”  They were comrades now… and he could tell she was smart enough that she wouldn’t tell what she shouldn’t.  It was almost like a weight was being lifted off of him, even though he knew his life was about to get significantly more complicated, looking after another person. 

            He felt oddly like when he had rescued Duo after deciding to kill him in his cell because he was a liability.  It was much more trouble…  But he didn’t mind.  “I’m going by Odin Lowe, now,” he explained, pulling two boxes of hair color from the grocery bag, two different but similar shades of blonde. 

            She understood immediately.  “Which one?” she asked curiously. 

            “Whichever you like better; I’ll use the other when mine grows out more.”  The choosing things was something Moira had insisted on often enough when he was staying with the Sronas, and since he knew so little about the girl, it had seemed like a good idea. 

            She grinned broadly at him, pointing at the brighter one, and he nodded, setting his on the room’s desk. 

            “You’re my brother, right?” 

            _Sharp._   “You need a different name,” he said in agreement, opening the box and setting up the kit.  They would have to wait for her hair to dry before they could dye it, but it was almost there already.  “Something close to your old one is best.”  Though from the comment about choosing birthdays, it sounded like she had at least some experience with false identification. 

            She thought about that for a moment, then grinned broadly at him.  “Marlé,” she decided.  “Marlé Leia Lowe.” 

            He nodded his approval, taking her jeans out of the bag and reading the size off them.  The more he thought about it, the more he realized how suspicious it would be to be buying her clothes when hers were obviously unsuitable.  It would be clear that they had not in fact known each other as long as siblings would have.  He could probably estimate for a shirt just by looking at her, but-  “What size shoe do you wear?” 

            “Four,” she returned easily, coming over to read the directions for the bleach.  “Do you have a hair brush?” 

            He mentally added that to his list.  “I’ll get one.”  It was a good thing all of his money wasn’t really his and hard to earn, or else today would likely put them in trouble, even before he sorted out her papers.  “I’ll help you get the bleach on but you’ll need to wash it out yourself.  I’ll find you some shoes and a sweater, then you can come with me to get a coat and more clothes after your hair is changed and dry.” 

            She nodded, still reading.  “Okay.  I’ll blow dry it the rest of the way dry so we can start.” 

            Heero blinked; that idea hadn’t occurred to him.  “I got some sandwiches too,” he went on to say.  “You should eat while it sets.”  He thought about it a moment longer, and got out his PlayPaq and a few games, setting them on the bed as she moved into the bathroom to use the little hair dryer, flipping her head in a practiced fashion so it hung upside down and she could dry the underside.  She didn’t waste time, excited or no. 

            _This isn’t going to be bad at all,_ he realized.  

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium**

            Relena opened the door coming out of her bedroom, eyes automatically going to the bookcase Jake’s Murphy bed folded up into, but it had already been neatly put away, the folding screens arranged against the wall for decoration instead of his privacy.  She had yet to wake up before him, but their arrangement hadn’t been in place for very long.  Shrugging, she exited the sitting room of the suite and moved into the main living area.  He wasn’t in uniform yet, but personally, she had come to think the faded t-shirts had always suited him better anyhow.  His hair was insanely messy today, which was… off-putting, actually. 

            “Good morning,” he greeted easily, glancing up at her from where he stood by the table, half bent over and fiddling at his computer.  “Good dreams?” 

            That was a normal greeting for him; most people gave him an odd look for it, while others, like Dorothy, would launch into a detailed retelling.  He didn’t mind either reaction, it seemed, but she actually thought about it before responding.  One of the things she liked best about her bodyguard’s personality was his bare-faced honesty.  He wasn’t hurt when brushed off, but he wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t interested in possibly hearing.  The blonde man was extremely observant.  “I don’t really remember,” she admitted after a moment of trying to recall the images, moving over to the breakfast tray a maid must have already brought up.  She rarely did, really. 

            He nodded amiably as she sat, still trying to figure out why his _hair_ bothered her.  It was just… weird.  Obviously it was just a series of sleep cowlicks or something, but…  _I guess I’ve just never seen it look anything but nondescript,_ she decided as she took a bite of pastry.  And since it was sticking up in so many directions, she could see that the dishwater dirty blonde she had ascribed to him before was more a matter of a handful of different shades of gold, varying from bright to ash.  “Do you color your hair?” she asked curiously. 

            He grinned a little at that, meeting her eyes and shaking his head.  “No, it’s just like that; it’ll get blonder the more I go outside.  I don’t think it’s ever been something you could call brown, though.”  He looked up, obviously considering his bangs.  “If I took the time to color it, I think I might pick something that actually looks good.” 

            _But it **does** look good…_  That would sound _so_ bad.  Instead, she noted, “If you don’t get that mess under control, Dorothy will stop at nothing to run her hands through it when she gets here.” 

            He blinked almost owlishly at that, and she suspected he would have choked had he been eating or drinking something.  Then he grinned in that impish way of his and spun the laptop around so she could look at it.  “I e-mailed what we finished with last night to RLTT; we’ll probably hear back soon.” 

            She stared at him.  “You did _not_!” 

            “It was _fine_ ; beautiful even.”  He was walking away.  “I’m going to go shove my head in the sink.” 

            “I can’t believe you!” she protested, her heart thudding in a way that had nothing whatsoever to do with the confident way the man moved.  She did feel herself flush at that as she stalked after him, though. 

            Jake smoothly shut the bathroom door, locking it.  “Go check your e-mail,” he suggested.  “If we fussed any more over the damn thing it would have gotten superfluous.  It was _good_.”  The water turned on. 

            She resisted the urge to scream, because that would have been entirely childish.  After a moment of fuming, she tried to explain.  “ _I_ am supposed to be in direct correspondence!” she snapped.  “Not anyone else!  It would look like someone was _using_ me again!” 

            The water turned off, and the door opened so he could meet her eyes.  “I sent the full write-up and a note that it was almost done being polished,” he told her quietly.  “I still think it covers everything fine as it is, but I’m not you.  I didn’t sign it.  It was an update, nothing else.  They’re obviously willing to move things along at a very fast rate, and it’ll move even faster if you keep a more open line of communications.  And the faster it moves, the sooner you can help more people.”  He sighed and opened the door the rest of the way instead of just enough for her to see his face.  “Go ahead and look in your sent mail.  You’ve been acting so cautious about all this, I thought you could use the push.” 

            She ground her teeth together.  He had meant well, she could tell by his face that he was being completely honest with her, and that he was worried about how she was upset.  But he was so damn _calm_ too… and somehow he managed to seem serene even with his hair sopping wet and twisted oddly, dripping all over his shirt.  “A single fast move is all it takes for a mistake to be made,” she returned coldly.  “And a single mistake is all it takes for someone to dismiss you.”  Her breath was coming harder than it ought to, now.  “And I _cannot_ risk being disregarded.” 

            And suddenly he was hugging her.  “I don’t know where you got the idea that you weren’t good enough, after everything during the war,” he muttered quietly as she stood there, stunned.  “I have an idea, though, and I have half a mind to go string Marquise up for it.”  He pulled back with his hands still on her shoulders to look her in the eyes.  “You can _do_ this.  You have the mind for it, you have the personality, and that deep want to help _alone_ saved so much during the war.  And you’re not doing it alone this time, you’re asking for help and you’re _getting_ it.  I can almost guarantee that you will get help from anyone you ever ask just because of who you are; because they _know_ what you do. 

            “But you have to step all the way up the plate, Princess,” he told her somberly, the term very much one of state and not affection.  His sapphire eyes, normally laughing, were serious.  “If you keep holding back the world will start to see just another politician.  You have to take those fearless leaps you got known for in order for them to keep you in their hearts right now.  You have to be willing to do the impossible to win over their loyalty utterly, because no one trusts the current government.” 

            He rubbed her shoulder with his thumb… and she almost wanted to cry.  That was the exact same gesture of encouragement that her father had used…  Her _father_ , not King Peacecraft. 

            “ _You_ can change that,” he continued in that still soft but solid voice he had delivered the entire speech with.  “You can earn back their love and respect.  But before they can believe in you, _you_ have to believe in you, Relena.  You have to be the kind of bold you were back when you came to _Libra_ to talk Zechs out of his madness, or this might not work.” 

            “That didn’t work,” she mumbled, looking away.  In the end, none of what she had done mattered.  The war had ‘ended’ horribly and she had been pushed back onto a shelf. 

            “You’re not running without any resources anymore,” he argued earnestly, letting go of her shoulders and leaning down slightly so he could look up at her despite the way she had her head ducked down.  “You have backing now, and I’m not asking you to run onto the battlefield recklessly like you used to.  Actually, while we’re on the subject, I’m going to ask you to _not_ do that.”  She couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle at that, and he grinned a little before going back to what he had been saying.  “You’re not just working off of impulse anymore.  We can plan this and still move quickly.  I sent the write-up because I know how this sort of thing works well enough, and it’s _done_.  We could have kept playing with it, but to be perfectly honest, it would have been a waste of time.  I wanted you to see that from the source of funding, because I can guarantee you that the person behind the RLTT fund will be perfectly satisfied with what you’ve drawn up.” 

            “How can you be so _sure_?” she demanded quietly, shoving her hair out of her face; she didn’t exactly have bangs anymore, but the shorter pieces in front that reached her chin still managed to get in the way. 

            Her bodyguard only smiled at her; the smile that had made her like him in the first place.  “Because everything I just said is true.” 

            Her heart was thudding… and she scowled at him.  “How is it that you always do this to me?” she demanded, half flustered, half _exhausted_ despite having just woken from a full night’s sleep. 

            He just chuckled a little and stood up straight, spinning her around to march her back out to the table.  “You’re not crying this time,” he noted.  “That’s definitely an improvement.  And I wouldn’t say always, this is only our second heart-to-heart.” 

            She decided not to respond to that, because it was true and there was really nothing else to say to it… and frowned.  “You’re all wet,” she realized.  His hair was dripping onto her shoulders. 

            He laughed in that delighted way of his.  “I am, huh?”  He pulled her into a quick hug around her shoulders… and shook his head like a dog might to dry off.  She squeaked and broke his grasp, darting away, and he just laughed harder. 

            For all that he could throw her into a complete emotional tizzy, Jake was certainly good at making her laugh too. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            The funniest part was that they had taken the TV. 

            Duo shook his head, moving to sit on the back of the couch.  While he wasn’t entirely sure why the crew had thought it was a grand idea to run into the partially burning building, he had to admit that it was quite the television set.  Well, not really, but the only time in his life when he’d had a TV was while he had lived with Hilde, and this one was bigger than that? 

            He’d been able to bandage up Sin without needing to take her to a doctor…  Nothing had been broken and she didn’t have any signs of internal bleeding, though there were plenty of scrapes and bruises, and one cut he’d had to stitch.  He’d had to stitch himself up in a few places as well, but Melissa had managed to go untouched, which he was grateful for.  That would have been more nerve-wracking than working on Karina, he imagined – or just as bad, at least. 

            Luc was all for trying to keep everyone pent up today.  Most of the city was having the same reaction, and it certainly didn’t seem like a _bad_ idea, at least.  The news had already done a story about it being suspected gang fighting, seeing as the city’s law enforcement had had trouble with the Slingers more than once.  After they finished confirming that fact, the investigation would cease, so long as no one who was involved raised a complaint. 

            He wasn’t surprised; he’d known back in January that he could get away with it.  The police force’s noninvolvement policy was why the violence had been so bad when he arrived in Amsterdam.  Though in their defense, there was relatively little a civil officer could hope to do against enlisted, let alone officers of any army caliber.  They just didn’t train for it… and had very quickly found their city absolutely infested with aggressive veterans.  Treize could say all the pretty words he wanted about the honor of warfare and the beauty of fighting, but when most men saw an opportunity they went for it, and warfare teaches all the ways to just _take_ what you wanted instead of working for it. 

            He didn’t really have any room to talk, as a thief…  But so many people lacked morals altogether.  It worried him.  He understood, at least on a logical level.  He even understood a little bit on an emotional one.  He’d never been able to decide if going down to Earth in Deathscythe had really been revenge for him, as G had suggested, or if it was that he thought he was doing the right thing; it had probably been a little of both.  The Alliance had _fire bombed_ the Maxwell church. 

            At the same time, though, he wasn’t sure if he had agreed to pilot a gundam because that had happened, or because he wanted to make sure it wouldn’t ever happen again. 

            He hopped off the couch and headed up to the second floor.  The entrance to the Den was half underground, and the main of the den and kitchen were too.  You could go downstairs from the living room – that was where his room was, and a fair number of others.  Some people appreciated the value of sunlight, however, and had taken up rooms on the upper two levels, which were more set up for a hotel or something.  Melissa, having been one of the founding members, had picked one of the nicer rooms up on the second story.  The showers were on that floor too, and it was just two walls and a bit of ceiling with showerheads everywhere; it had been like that when Luc, Shov, Gust, and ‘Liss took up the lease contract.  Luc said he thought he remembered the building being a halfway house for teenage delinquents once upon a time, but it had been abandoned for a while before they stumbled it across it, and he wasn’t sure. 

            He knocked on ‘Liss’s door, remembering… 

 

-

_“Oh, okay.”_

_She considered him a moment, tilting her head.  After a moment, she asked, “Luc never told you?”_

_He grinned.  “Well, I wouldn’t have asked if I knew.”_

_She smiled slightly, staring a moment longer before grinning broadly and practically bouncing past him.  “I’ll be back in just a minute.  Eat that before it gets cold, huh?”_

_“Alright.”_  

-

 

            One of the Slingers had brought her up in a really bad sort of way to try to taunt him when the fighting had started really going in full swing… and he hadn’t been able to get it out of his head.  The way she had suddenly seemed happier, back then…  _She wasn’t asking if Luc had told me about her father, was she?_  

            He couldn’t get what that asshole had said to stop circling his head; so he had to know. 

            She smiled when she saw it was him, and opened the door wide when he gestured that he wanted to come in.  She tilted her head in that way of hers when he went and sat on her bed – it was actually raised up instead of his ‘nest down in the dungeon.’  She looked concerned; he didn’t blame her, he knew he wasn’t acting normal.  After a moment, she closed the door.  She caught his mood enough that she didn’t say anything, though, waiting for him to make the first move. 

            He bit his lip.  He trusted her, and if it was true it was for good reasons, he knew… and it couldn’t have happened while he had been with the Devils; he would have noticed.  If he knew Luc at all, it hadn’t happened since before they started the crew; the man was so understanding of Duo and Karina’s relationship because he was the same way about Melissa, and despite her very apt ability to take care of herself, Luc was protective of her. 

            He _knew_ he could trust her, and that if it was true, it was just past ugliness.  But he’d been trying to tell himself to drop it all day and he just couldn’t… and he was realizing that her asking about his past before might have been the same thing.  He could honestly see a future with Melissa.  He saw his future now with the Devils and the church, and there was some small glimmer that this could really _work_ … 

            And fair was fair. 

            “My name is Duo Maxwell,” he started, staring at the floor.  “Far back as I can remember, I was a street rat on L2.  The older kid in charge of our crew was Solo…  But he died when a plague swept through.  I stole the treatment, the cure, for him, but it was too late – ended up giving it to the next kid that got sick.  Didn’t take it myself ‘cause I felt guilty, I guess… but I never caught it.  I thought maybe he’d protected me somehow, from beyond… so I decided I’d be Duo.  Live for both of us, ya know? 

            “Tried to take care of everybody after that, though I didn’t always do so hot a job.  I was just a brat, I had a temper like anybody.  Eventually we got picked up by Maxwell church.  It was a lot like Father Espen’s.  They more took care of kids than handled services, and everybody from but me got adopted, before long.  More people are cool with that, up there, with the fertility problems, but…”  He tried to give her a smile; didn’t feel like much of one, but he tried.  “I’ve always been a pretty good troublemaker.” 

            Her eyes were huge, and she looked ready to cry, standing with one arm held tight to her chest.  “ _The_ Maxwell Church?” she asked in a whisper, eyes shining. 

            He looked away.  “That was after I’d been in and out of there for almost three years.  The assholes that ended up getting it targeted wouldn’t leave unless they had a chance against the troops…  But I got ‘em to say they’d scat if they got a mobile suit, so I went and nabbed one.  When I got back, though…”  He dropped his head into one hand, trying to will the tears not to come as the images came back.  The smoke and rubble… the shards of colored glass everywhere…  Sister Helen… 

 

-

_Her habit was gone.  The only time he’d ever seen her without it had been when she was ready to go to bed, but she was so dirty…  Everything was dirty, even though the church had always been pristine, and there was blood…_

_**Is this my fault?**   **Did the Alliance come because of the rebels, or because I stole from them?  They couldn’t have known it was me already, could they?**   Everyone was **gone** …  Sister Helen was the only thing not covered in blood…  _

            _“Duo… M-may you… have God’s… blessing…”  Reaching up to cup his cheek like she always did… before she went limp.  Her hand just **fell** …  Her face was wrong, her eyes staring off.  _

_And she wasn’t breathing anymore._  

-

 

            “Stowed away on a Sweeper ship two years later; got caught after a couple days.  Turns out the guy in charge was building a gundam,” he continued, swallowing hard.  “He was impressed that I’d made it through his security… and then I was really good at the sims.”  He chuckled a little darkly and shook his head a bit.  “He trained me up day after day once I agreed to think about it, and I learned more than I ever thought there was _to_ learn.  I could already handle myself just fine, but he had more of a fighting style drilled into me… And I was _really_ good with the languages and chemistry.  Machines made sense like nothing else ever had before.  Before I knew it, three years passed and Deathscythe was done.”  He looked up at her again.  “And I guess the rest is history.” 

            She nodded a little, seeming to take a minute to absorb it all.  After a little while, though, she met his eyes… and came to sit next to him. 

            “My father left to find money, but it didn’t go so well,” she muttered after a minute, looking down and fiddling with her hands.  “The landlord said I had two more days before he kicked us out, and I’d already sold all the furniture.  There-”  She obviously struggled for a moment… and started to shake.  “I couldn’t _feed_ Nolan…” 

            He reached out and pulled her into a tight hug, half wishing he hadn’t asked… but he knew for sure now, and maybe the secrets being done between them would be a good thing.  Shov knew…  And if everything turned out good with ‘Liss, then she should know too. 

            He was crying too, he hated that… but she was sobbing into his chest… so maybe fair was fair.  “I’m sorry,” he muttered, running his hands over her back.  “I just… someone said…” 

            “We don’t have to see each other anymore,” she whispered into his shoulder.  “It’s okay.  I get it, it’s fine…” 

            He turned his head to stare at her – well, her hair – in horror.  If it had been like that, then it didn’t matter.  He lifted himself slightly, holding her tighter, and buried his face in her curls, pressing his lips to the top of her head briefly.  “Don’t be stupid,” he muttered roughly.  “I’ve killed hundreds of people, sometimes on a daily basis, that’s much worse.” 

            “Says you,” she returned morosely, though she gripped at his back harder. 

            He swallowed at that.  “It’s all past now, huh?  I don’t like talking about my shit, and you don’t ever need to talk about yours again.  We’re where we are now; it’s done with, and it doesn’t have to rule who we are, huh?”  He brushed her hair back and leaned back so she looked at him.  “I like you…”  She was odd in a lot of ways, but just right in so many others… and her head worked in a good way, or something.  He wasn’t sure how to put words to it, but he honestly didn’t think it was hormones, like he thought Hilde might have been.  Well, Hilde wasn’t _all_ hormones… but at least a decent part of it had been thinking he was going to be dead by the end of the week. 

            “This doesn’t have to change anything,” he went on firmly.  “I just… I had to know.  So if I was going to ask, it was only fair to say first, huh?”  She laughed a little, though it sounded hysterical… and relaxed more into him. 

            _This could really work,_ he realized again, catching himself twirling her hair in his fingers and wanting to stare dumbly.  Everything was… shockingly _okay_ somehow.  He’d just killed nigh thirty people and she wasn’t bothered by it; she’d helped.  She had _helped_ … taking out the outliers and using him as a diversion to save their sister.  No bravado, just a cute comment about stealing his glory… 

            …and she just _fit_ in his lap.  Hilde had always been too proud to do something like sit on him, or cuddle up to him unless they were making out, and Melissa had cuddled with him _before_ all that started, just when he was upset and didn’t want to be alone.  Maybe part of it was that he was seventeen now and had only been fifteen then, but he’d thought he would be just as awkward in a new relationship.  But it was just _different_ with ‘Liss.  He wasn’t sure why or how, not entirely… but he really _liked_ it.  There was a deep comfort involved somehow… 

            “What are you thinking?” she asked quietly. 

            He chuckled a little, burying his face in her hair again.  “Mushy, embarrassing things that I have no intention of repeating aloud,” he grumbled.  “Just pretend I did and we can sit happy instead of listening to me stutter.” 

            She laughed a little at that, staring at him half disbelievingly, and he smiled back at her. 

            And that was enough. 

-

***

-

**Treize’s hidden compound**

 

-

_Hey Tatem,_

            _Everything’s still all hush hush about that prank, so I don’t think you have to worry about it anymore.  I don’t think anyone caught on that we had anything to do with it; if someone noticed, I guess they didn’t care enough to talk.  That was really awesome, though, you should have seen their faces.  We’ll have to try something like that again sometime._

_Everything’s pretty funny back here, with Zach in a fit.  He’s such an ass, but at least he means well.  Listen, he’ll get over it soon enough, but I guess he lost that old watch of yours.  Damn shame, what with how hard it was for you to find in the first place.  You would think he’d care more; he should know how much it meant to you.  He seems freaked out enough about it though, so I don’t think he’s lying and pawned it or anything.  I would say he’s about ready to tear the house apart, but you know him, he’ll give up before long and we’ll find it in between the couch cushions in a couple months.  I’ll be sure to tell you if I find it, though.  It has to turn up eventually, right?_

_Otherwise, life is pretty good… busy, but good.  Don’t write me back just to say you’ve been sitting on your ass, though, that’s just wrong when I’m up to this much bullshit.  Make something up that’ll give me a good laugh, huh?_

_Oh yeah, take a look at this, but make sure your sister isn’t going to walk in or anything, she’ll kill me if she found out I was the one who showed it to you.  Twisted, huh?  No need to thank me, just looking out for you since you don’t get **out** anymore.  You seriously should do something about that, before you get all weird and marry some virgin because her daddy gave you a dowry or something.  _

_And while we’re talking about weird, Michael was muttering something about his watch stopping for three minutes before it got going again.  Personally, I think he just wasn’t paying any attention, seeing as it still works, but he’s worrying about the battery as if it’s the end of the world.  That guy is so whack, sometimes I wonder why I talk to him.  I thought you might get a kick out of that though.  I mean, really, for three minutes?  How would he even **know**?  _

_Your friend,_

_Váli_

-

 

            Even if he hadn’t sent it through a maze of untraceable routers in a way that it was hard to tell it had even been done, no one would ever think one of his letters from Váli was code from a spy, Treize mused.  He managed to _babble_ so damn well about entirely pointless shit.  It was effective, but not without flaws. 

            The worst part of it had to be that he would send him links to the most _bizarre_ porn the internet could contain – which he somehow managed to code a hidden button into, leading to an encrypted page with copies of files from the Regime’s database. 

            Besides the likely abhorrent link, though, he’d said enough.  Zechs was upset about his lack of success in taking down Dekim, but he wasn’t going to let it be public.  They hadn’t found Mariemaia either, but Váli was confident she wasn’t dead, just spirited away.  And Michael was David Mitchell, and he had seen _something_ , but Váli wasn’t convinced, and Mitchell might not be either. 

            _The end of the world._   Anything Armageddon-related was supposed to have to do with the gundam pilots.  The three was relevant too, or he would have made some comment about not even knowing, given something less specific…  03?  Trowa Barton? 

            That would be… strange.  The real Trowa Barton was dead, and the gundam pilot would have no reason to take an interest in the Barton family; he hadn’t known a thing about them.  Additionally, there hadn’t been a single trace of the boy since he disappeared from _Libra_ ; he was beyond talented at slipping by under the radar. 

            Váli was leery of the idea, but if he didn’t think there was a possibility, he wouldn’t have mentioned it. 

            He trusted Váli, despite his periodically unfortunate sense of humor.  _Make one throwaway comment about porn being disgusting, and it will haunt you for the next **decade**._   If either of them had been genuinely aggravated about it he would have dropped it years ago, but no.  Váli looked this trash up and made him sit through it not because of the material – he might have been able to desensitize himself if there was an actual _reason_ involved – but because the fact that contrived videographic intimacy still made him feel so _discomfited_ was something the man found innately hilarious. 

            He would complain about how all his friends were assholes if it didn’t look petty – that or, of course, he _had_ a confident he could whine to instead of a multitude of subordinates.  The last time he’d tried turning a competent soldier into a friend she had taken his suggestions seriously, and when he tried to make it obvious he was being facetious she took it _more_ seriously, and by the time he owned up to the realization that he’d managed to accidentally instigate a cult, he didn’t have the social latitude to recover from the hit of confidence he would suffer in the eyes of his peers if he intentionally crashed it. 

            In hindsight, he was willing to admit that if he had handled the situation with Une even _slightly_ less delicately, she very well might have turned on him.  And he’d picked up Une in the first place because she had oh so much talent for making something very thoroughly dead.  By the time he’d recognized just how unstable she was, the woman was practically the mascot of OZ, and replacing her would have been taken as a sign of weakness.  He’d made do. 

            He always had liked dangerous things a _little too much_.  Honestly, it was far too late to bother with surprise when one of his projects backfired. 

            Which led him back to the video he was being bribed into watching with intel he really couldn’t afford to ignore.  It made him want to attack something – preferably with a good blade. 

            If he told Váli to stop, he _would_ , because they _were_ friends.  On the other hand?  He had no idea what the man would find to send him after that, but it would undoubtedly be worse somehow.  He was creative like that.  Therefore, it was better to just make sure the volume was turned off on his computer and he could quickly close the window.  Locking the door beforehand was tempting, but that required admitting just how much it bothered him. 

            …He could appreciate the silliness of that, honestly, if only he wasn’t already in such a foul temper. 

            Sighing, he dropped his head on his desk, not yet willing to face down his friend’s latest attempt to make him laugh at himself. 

            Mariemaia was _gone_. 

            How could she just be gone without a trace?  Váli was looking, and he was good at it, he was the one who had been set to find the girl and her mother originally… But she had _been there_ , she _had_ , and somehow slipped through his fingers again. 

            _Am I ever going to find them?  Is this the price for not saying propriety and Leia’s fear be damned, and letting it all slide behind the curtain?_  

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium**

            Dorothy frowned at her two friends as she entered the suite.  Unfortunately, they noticed her staring at them before she could decipher the issue.  “What?” Jake asked, eying her just as skeptically. 

            “We have… work,” she noted after a moment, uttering the word with the distaste it deserved.  “And… you’re all _happy_.” 

            “Oh, the militia’s already worked out,” Relena returned, glowing.  “We’ve heard back from RLTT that everything’s good to go.” 

            _Oh.  Still…_   “You _do_ know that the mission to take out Barton’s faction failed, right?” 

            “I would hardly call it a failure,” Relena negated, shuffling papers on the table.  “They seem to be dissolved, Dekim is dead and no longer a threat, and the little girl probably ran when she heard trouble and will turn up in a few days.” 

            “You’re sickeningly optimistic for this early in the morning.” 

            “It’s _nine_ , Catalonia,” Jake retorted, smirking.  “The rest of the compound has been up for the past three hours.” 

            She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to decide if he actually meant to be offensive.  The most miserable thing about this job was the schedule they tried to impose on her. 

            Actually, truthfully she’d been more or less miserable since she had lost to Winner on _Libra_ , but… 

            Well, there wasn’t a whole lot else to _do_.  Not that her family would have ever approved of, anyhow… and the things they would have shunned weren’t interesting anyway.  Life was boring right now, but it was a way to endure, and with people going hungry every day she couldn’t very well go back to doing nothing at all; she would be left out in the cold, at least until she inherited her family’s money when she was eighteen.  Maybe she _would_ leave then… 

            But Relena was the only real friend she could say she had ever had.  And she had sworn herself to Relena… so even if she really wanted to be left alone, she’d promised she wouldn’t.  And she didn’t want to be without her again.  There was… something incredibly soothing about the princess.  There always had been; it was just nice to be near her, and she would miss that if she took her money and ran.  Relena would probably let her if she helped fund the do gooder projects, and as Romefeller’s only real heir she certainly _could_ , but while she certainly was sick of her life, she didn’t want to excise the only thing she _did_ enjoy about it. 

            Well, Jake was nice too – a touch annoying, but intriguing, really, and entertaining if nothing else.  He had that same half hidden air to him as those gundam boys Relena had collected for a while, though his was gentler, somehow.  Less threatening. 

            Maybe Jake was a friend too.  Maybe Mitchell could be.  She had once thought that Milliardo might be a good person to be close to, but he lacked his sister’s… _rightness_.  She had let him spin her into this mess, believing it would all turn out well, but while perhaps that kind of faith might go well with Relena, Sanc’s prince didn’t have any of the same finesse.  Well, no, he had finesse, he had panache… 

            …but he wasn’t terribly reassuring.  She frowned.  He was certainly a man among men, but he just didn’t have what it took, whatever that was.  That was why she had happily pledged herself to Relena after the princess returned: because she hardly knew what to do with herself, and Relena always had good ideas, didn’t she?  An idealist, her grandfather had called her once, snorting in disgust as he said it…  But it was all terribly romantic, and she would be the first to admit she did love a good romance.  Storybook was the way to go, and whatever _had_ happened to Relena’s dashing young prince of the stars? 

            Heero always made things more interesting.  Any of those boys did, but he was the one who had gotten her princess’s heart all up in a flutter, and that alone made him more intriguing than the others.  Well, he had been the one to showdown with Milliardo as well, and the blonde man had hardly been able to stand for more than an hour for the week following _Libra’s_ Fall.  Most of his early actions had been done directly through her, and while she hadn’t seen what was under the bandaging, she had noticed how quickly he exhausted.  Honestly, she doubted he was completely well even now… it certainly didn’t affect him all the time, but sometimes at the end of the day he would go into a cold sweat and fight to not clutch at his stomach as he still managed to coolly dismiss everyone from the immediate vicinity.  She didn’t think anyone else had noticed the pattern or seen the sweat – Milliardo was certainly fair enough for a little paleness to go unnoticed – but Dorothy didn’t miss little details. 

            Her mother had always said that it was the details that were important, whether it was in cooking or schoolwork, or choosing a man. 

            …If she got married, could she be a homemaker?  That was a thought.  She could manage a household, and brats were easy to take care of… 

            “Why do I get the feeling I don’t like where your mind is?” Jake asked warily. 

            She made herself twitch as though startled out of a daydream, and smiled innocently at him – which only made him narrow his eyes.  _Damn.  Why does he have to notice everything?_   She tossed him an annoyed look before moving over to the breakfast tray, which still had a pastry on it.  “So if the militia thing is done, then what have you two been up to all morning?” she asked coyly. 

            Relena narrowed her eyes at her too, and Dorothy fought the urge to laugh, instead smiling and waggling her eyebrows suggestively.  The princess snorted at her, continuing to organize paperwork. 

            _Oh?  She’s not going to get all embarrassed?_   “What?” she asked, surprised and a little disappointed.  “No flush?”  she frowned, focusing back over to Jake in confusion.  “What _have_ you been up to?” 

            The bodyguard started laughing weakly, hiding his face in his hand.  Relena _was_ blushing furiously now, and that was comforting; more normal.  She honestly didn’t think the two of them would do anything inappropriate, but it was fun to poke fun about it just to stir things up a bit. 

            Relena, however, didn’t appreciate her efforts.  “Does your mind _ever_ leave the gutter?” she demanded in a hiss. 

            Jake started laughing harder, head down between his knees now, shoulders shaking as he tried to suppress the noise.  Dorothy stared back at her liege in dismay.  “The gutter?  What _are_ you thinking of, Jacob’s not like that!” 

            There was a sort of choking guffaw from the recliner as Relena turned a _very_ bright pink, obviously furious but clueless as to how to respond, so Dorothy leaned back and waved a dismissive hand, allowing herself a smirk.  “No, Jake’s a good man.  We should name one of them Jacob.” 

            “Huh?” 

            The princess’s rage just withered and she collapsed into her chair, rubbing at the bridge of her nose as she returned to her normal color.  “Dorothy has the most curious theory,” she explained coolly, “that Rhea Lowe is an avid fangirl of mine who wants to have several children with me.  She’s been naming them in the offtimes.” 

            “The first is going to be Heero,” Dorothy explained primly, smiling at him and waiting for the laughter to return. 

            He stared owlishly at them for a moment, and she blinked; _that_ was a new reaction, she hadn’t seen him go blank like that before.  She hadn’t thought he _did_ that, and it certainly didn’t suit him.  A few moments later he was groaning into his hands and muttering something unintelligible to himself before starting to laugh weakly as he pushed his hands back through his hair.  “Oh _God_ …” 

            “I know,” Relena returned in a defeatist sort of tone.  “It’s hardly worth the argument, though, trust me.”  She finished clearing off a bit of desk space and settled her yellow notepad in the new area, starting to sketch out some new idea, probably. 

            “That is _beyond_ wrong, Catalonia, you know that right?” Jake muttered, giving her an exhausted sort of look. 

            “Well it would hardly be fun if it weren’t,” she scoffed, taking another bite of her pastry.  She looked at the thing then, considering it.  “I wonder if I can make these,” she mused aloud.  “They’re delicious.  I could be an excellent housewife if I could make these.” 

            “You know what, I’m just not going to ask,” Jake decided, standing up and moving over to see what Relena was doing.  “I’m just _not_ going to ask anymore.” 

            Dorothy grinned at them, knowing they would say when they wanted her to work on something.  They were just brainstorming right then, by the looks of it… so she decided to go get herself some coffee. 

            The day was always better with a bit of coffee. 

-

***

-

**Unknown**

            Heero turned to see how Marie was doing, realizing she’d gone quiet… to find her asleep against the window. 

            _Of course…  It’s been a long day._  

            It hadn’t taken too long to get her properly outfitted once her hair was changed and the essentials taken care of.  It had taken a bit longer to work out Wufei’s most likely route, but no one seemed to think twice about a brother and sister traveling together once they started on their way.  He still needed to get her papers, but that wasn’t as urgent as it might otherwise be.  Because they were passing themselves off as being from Earth, there wasn’t any particular reason a girl her age would need full identification, for all that such negligence would be unheard of in the colonies. 

            Their bus had left Vilnius in the late afternoon, and they hadn’t stopped moving since changing her hair… and she probably had not slept any more of the previous night than he had.  He was trained to go for a long time without sleep, though, and she was just a kid.  In all his memories, while Odin had expected him to work, he had never demanded it; he just hadn’t offered alternative pastimes when they were on a job.  When they were off it had always varied, but if he hadn’t enjoyed helping Odin as much as he had, he doubted his father would have pressed.  He probably would have found him some kind of toy to keep him preoccupied, from what he remembered of the man’s nature… but the weaponry had been more than interesting. 

            He had worked with Odin, but they had led an easy life.  Learning to function on minimal sleep had come after his death. 

            He would have to be careful.  Despite their chase, Marie – _Marlé_ – deserved her sleep.  He could keep them moving and at the pace they needed around that, he was sure; after all, she had just proven that she could sleep while they moved by some means, provided it wasn’t walking.  He would have to be remember to think about food, too; it wasn’t unusual for him to forget a meal in favor of something he was focusing on.  Hopefully she wasn’t shy about talking, and she didn’t seem like she would have a problem telling him that she was hungry… just the same, he resolved to remember. 

            …And always be sure she had money on her so she could manage food if he was working on a lead that he couldn’t just drop. 

            The coat he had gotten her wasn’t flashy – the last thing they needed was attention – but she hadn’t been disappointed with its dark green color.  Instead, she had immediately cooed over the rabbit fur lining, rubbing her cheek along the softness at her collar and smiling at nothing.  She was small; the fur would be good for keeping her warm.  He would have gotten himself fur initially, but when he had bought his coat he had still been far enough south that it wasn’t commonly available.  It kept warm like nothing else, however, and while in the store the saleswoman had chased him about it… and he had had to admit that switching to the style would mean he could wear less sweaters at once.  It hadn’t been a hardship to find a similarly lined  and quilted jacket of worn leather in the second-hand section and drop his down nylon in the donation bin.  Settling deeper into the lined hood now, the soft fur caressing his cheeks, he couldn’t help but feel the indulgence had been more than worth it. 

            They didn’t make soft leather gloves like those he had that shouldn’t interfere with gun work for children, at least that he had yet found, so she was wearing simple cloth ones.  He couldn’t remember if he had had good gloves when he was with Odin.  It had never been cold, and when discretion as to their presence was necessary, they had worn simple latex, which had always been big on him; usually he’d been told to keep his hands in his pockets. 

            Her boots would hold, though for how long depended on how fast she grew.  The cap snugged over her head now wasn’t the only one they had obtained, along with a pair of earmuffs; she was very unfamiliar with the weather, and vulnerable to it.  She was wearing one of the scarves Moira Srona knit for him… 

            That seemed like an age ago.  _What would she think of this?_   He got the impression that she would be proud… though likely amused at his fumbling.  He still had no idea what to do with her beyond keeping her warm and fed… though she had happily picked up a Sudoku book at a register somewhere, and had been playing with that before falling asleep.  She seemed to have caught onto at least some of his confusion, and was filling in the gaps where his knowledge abruptly ended. 

            That, more than anything, was what assured him that taking her in hadn’t been a mistake.  If she had been less independent, more clingy, he would have been at a complete loss. 

            The little book and pencil were tucked between them on the seat, and, curious, he picked them up, flipping through the completed puzzles to find the logic behind the game.  It wasn’t hard to see the pattern… she had only been playing with it for maybe half an hour, but three were done. 

            _She’s good with numbers._  

            It wasn’t a hard game… but according to the citations, this was a high level book, and she had done it quickly.  Curious, he tried an empty one, and found himself working through the squares at approximately the same rate. 

            _What else is she good at?_   If she liked this…  _Does she like computers?_   Odin had taught him the ins and outs of their laptop long before he had died – Dr. J’s men had hardly added to his knowledge of programming and hacking, merely honed it with practice.  He was relatively sure he could walk Marlé through the same steps Odin had led him through…  And she needed to know at least the basics of first aid. 

            _She was excited at the prospect of chasing down Wufei._   He doubted she had done anything of the like…  But he knew enough about Sudoku that he was relatively certain eleven-year-olds and those with expansive engineering training and experience in MS repair _and_ design shouldn’t be on the same level, even if he was new to the game.  That suggested dedication, determination… good traits for learning. 

            He knew that this was a good deal of speculation based on bare few facts, but he had the feeling in his gut that he was right, and that had never led him wrong before. 

            Leaning back in his chair, Heero – Odin – closed his eyes, thinking.  So much had happened that day… but he was relatively sure that just as much would happen tomorrow, and possibly the following as well, now that he had company.  Everything had changed, swiftly, and possibly with permanent results. 

            The fur of his hood tickled his nose slightly as he shifted into a more comfortable position, setting his internal alarms so that he would immediately wake if there was movement to his right, in the aisle.  There should not be too many false alarms, considering their position at the back of the vehicle and lack of many passengers, but if there were, coming to consciousness was hardly a nuisance; he could return to sleep, straight into REM, with little more than a thought. 

            It was a useful trait that he had learned long ago.  Odin had taught him the meditation before memory, and it had evolved into a game of saying silly sentences and telling elaborate lies mixed with truth while hooked up to a polygraph, trying to make the needles keep the same pattern. 

            He opened his eyes, staring at the back of the seat in front of him.  Odin had smiled then, and it had reached his eyes.  Why hadn’t he remembered that before?  _He was happy; we were having fun…_   It was an old memory, though, and he couldn’t seem to dredge up most of the details surrounding it.  But he had been _happy_ , then. 

            _What changed?_   It had started with games, but most of his memories of learning to sleep or wake when he pleased were more focused on practicality, or simplicity, or- 

            He frowned, remembering Odin calm but his brow slightly furrowed, tucking him in and muttering softly that he didn’t have to worry about nightmares if he told himself he didn’t want to remember his dreams before he fell asleep. 

            There were two things wrong with this. 

            First of all, his father had never tucked him in.  Held him close for warmth or comfort, sure, but from the time his memories began to when Odin had died, they had always slept in the same bed. 

            Second, he could not recall ever having a nightmare in his life.  Quatre insisted he had them, though… and he could count the number of times he had ever dreamed at all on one hand… which matched amazingly well with solving a problem and instilling the habit at a young age. 

            _But why was he tucking me into a different bed?_   They had rarely ever stayed in one place for long, usually keeping to motels, but though they were in a hotel in the memory, there were two double beds instead of one.  Odin had never explained why they always slept in one bed; it was just what they’d always done. 

            Except, apparently it wasn’t. 

            There was no sense of strangeness attached to the memory… 

            …though there was a twang of loneliness. 

            _Strange…_   That was all he could drag back up, but that wasn’t too surprising; it must have been from when he was four or five… maybe that feeling of loneliness had been why Odin had changed their sleeping arrangements?  But why had he had it in the first place?  He frowned.  Was natural for a child to have those fears crop up around that age?  The memory could be younger than four, too; he was only assuming because his earliest solid recall started around five or six. 

            _Did Odin only acquire me around that age?_   He closed his eyes again.  That could make sense… but was also upsetting, if the man had gone into what Heero could now recognize as a depression shortly after gaining a son. 

            His father had always seemed to enjoy spending time with him, though, and he couldn’t remember him ever trying to exclude him, or being agitated at his presence.  He hadn’t regretted him enough to cause a depression, so it couldn’t have been related directly to him, at least. 

            Closing his eyes again, he started to even out his breathing to initiate his sleep rhythm.  He would figure it out eventually. 

**-**

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts, comments?


	23. Yanking Back the Curtain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, when you follow the road through a sharp turn, what you see around the corner is the last thing you expected. When you yank back the curtain looking for the magic, you find yourself disappointed - but isn't the engineering that crafts the illusion more impressive than a wave of the hand? 
> 
> Either way, it might be a good idea to run from the pissed off magician.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edits on this one are fairly minimal; a little added depth of thought or history here or there to round things out. Enjoy!

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**_Yanking Back the Curtain _ **

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**July 23 rd 197 – Sunday – Brussels, Belgium**

            “How did you get past me?” 

            Relena turned and couldn’t help but smile at her bodyguard.  He looked genuinely confused… as well as far more alarmed than the occasion called for.  She had woken up in the middle of the night and wanted to write, and her notepad was out in the main of the suite.  She hadn’t given the blonde man much thought as she passed his sleeping form, and he hadn’t stirred.  “I walked.” 

            The mixture of his bewildered look and shaggy hair verged on comical.  “You moved past me…  Why didn’t I wake up?” 

            Turning back to her notepad, smiling a little to herself, she happily declared, “I am petite and fleet of foot.” 

            He snorted softly at that, still shaking his head as he came to sit next to her at the table and rest his head on his arms.  “What are you doing up, anyhow?” 

            “I had a bad dream,” she admitted.  “I think bits of it were from when I walked through a ruined sector of colony when I was fourteen… but when I woke up, it made me want to get back to work.” 

            Sighing, he propped his chin on his arms instead of his forehead, the pose endearingly childish.  “Alright.  I’m going to tell the guard outside that you’re awake so noises aren’t suspect, and will be going back to sleep in the recliner.”  He stood, pushing back his chair.  “If anything even feels a little off, wake me up.  Saying my name should be enough.” 

            “You sleep that light?” she asked skeptically. 

            “I _should_ have woken up the moment your door opened,” he muttered a little irritably.  “Since I didn’t, I probably needed sleep more than I thought, so I’d rather get it now instead of slipping up later today or tomorrow, on the off chance that something happens.” 

            “We’re in the middle of the compound,” she argued easily.  Jake had increased the guard on her in a fairly extreme way since taking up his post, though he made a point to be the one on duty during her more social hours, so less people were involved.  There was always a guard in the hall, and a smaller contingent on duty in a nearby room that would be ready to assist.  For the sake of privacy, the ex-Special was almost always the only one inside her suite, though there were a few exceptions. 

            “I could pull it off, which means someone else could too,” he returned in the same tired tone.  “You’re hardly immune to cunning.  Plenty of men and women are trained to gain trust and slide in close enough to approach an inner room like this without raising suspicion.  The only way around that is to _know_ all your men and stay suspicious of everyone else, but unfortunately there are a _lot_ of people on this base, so you have to make stricter rules and set the men against each other instead.”  He threw the locks on the door back and leaned out to mutter briefly at the guard.  When he was done, he fixed all the bolts securely again and headed for the recliner.  “Your brother is far too trusting in offered loyalty, especially considering how many times _he’s_ turned and bitten his master’s hand.” 

            “You make him sound malevolent,” she half accused, though she could tell that her friend was just in a mood, not really meaning the full connotation of his words… and she half agreed; just not with the way he had said it. 

            “I like Zechs,” he grumbled as he settled himself, pulling the afghan off the back of the chair and covering himself… setting a gun she hadn’t realized he had been carrying in easy reach between the cushions.  “But he’s pulled more than a few foul tricks to turn the cards in his favor before.  That’s not necessarily a bad thing – sometimes authority deserves a good hard bite.” Reaching out, he pulled the lever to lay back, settling in a second time.  “Push anybody hard enough, Princess, and eventually they’ll turn on you.  That’s just how we’re built; the whole point of the golden rule. 

            “My gripe with your brother’s sense of security is that, for all his suspicion?  He doesn’t like actively watching for internal conflict.  The Regime isn’t even close to as tightly bound as OZ; everyone there _chose_ to join up.  But because _he_ doesn’t see how he could have done anything but form up this empire of his, he keeps forgetting how ninety-nine percent of his people now got here via Conversion by the Sword.  It’s like he thinks he’s such a clever fucking snowflake that no one can repeat his stunts; like what he did was even _new_.”  He shook his head.  “Brilliant as he is, he’s got the mind of a conspirator, not a tactician.” 

            Watching him yawn, she debated asking what the difference was, but decided that that was petty; she understood his point, and the comment would only rile him.  The closest she had ever seen him to this mood was when he had pointedly looked at her to make her leave his quarters when they first began working together… and he had been heading to bed then, too. 

            Apparently he was one of those people who was unpleasant when even mildly sleep deprived. 

            Rolling her eyes, she focused back on the table… and decided to pull up her laptop to see if there was any new news. 

-

***

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 **July 25 th 197 – Tuesday** – **Vilnius, Lithuania**

            Adam sighed; there just wasn’t much for it.  He had been trying for weeks, but even though he’d managed to get back to his little ship’s location less than a day after it had landed in Vilnius, he couldn’t find  a damn trace of Mariemaia.  No one remembered seeing a redheaded little girl on her own. 

            _How can she have just vanished?_   The past few weeks had been an exercise of sheer frustration, and it was just… bizarre.  As far as he knew, the child had no knowledge of how to conceal herself in a place like modern Europe, and it was very unlikely that she had had any money on her.  Even if she did know and had a thick roll of cash, she _still_ would have needed to go into a store wearing next to nothing when it was four degrees above freezing, and that kind of thing stood out. 

            He’d checked every single store that sold clothes in a three mile radius; nothing. 

            The _guilt_ was gnawing on him.  She wouldn’t have ended up on Earth if he hadn’t tried to play hero, and now she was lost.  Someone _must_ have taken her in, and _fast_ , but he couldn’t find any trace of that act either, which implied a _professional_ , not charity. 

            And the East States like Lithuania had a _significant_ human trafficking problem these days. 

            Well, it had; most of his past few weeks had been spent tearing through the infrastructure of any underground cell that might be interested in taking advantage of a young girl.  He didn’t even _care_ what the hell the government thought was happening over here with all the anthills he’d kicked over and proceeded to drown, not after he’d seen… seen _that_.  But he _still_ never found any traces that could have led to her. 

            However frustrated he was to have lost so much time, though, he couldn’t regret it.  It hadn’t been what he wanted, but his crusade had been far from fruitless, even if he knew it wouldn’t take long for someone else to come set up shop again.  The sheer number of abused _children_ and adolescents he’d freed and handed over to the police made him want to gag. 

            If he was lucky, the Regime would think he’d been a handful of different people on a vigilante justice binge.  Or, if they got enough details from his little crusade, maybe they would decide he was an agent of Po’s, not an independent player.  Or…  He hadn’t been subtle about looking for a young girl with light eyes and red hair, but he had enough red in his own these days that they might jump to convenient conclusions and think he’d been a veteran from the wars chasing after victimized family.  They would _expect_ him to just disappear back into anonymity then, right? 

            He _hated_ drawing so much attention.  It made his skin itch, his teeth ache, and the ramp up in anxiety was entirely _useless_. 

            He’d conceded to the possibility of worst case scenarios, too, especially after finding no small amount of bodies in the wake of the traffickers…  But he was sure that if someone had killed the girl, they would have seen no reason to hide Mariemaia’s body any better than they would any others, and he’d checked the dump sites of all the groups he’d crippled – most of them filtered back into the local morgues pretty quickly, he’d been relieved to learn.  So he’d haunted every morgue in Vilnius and near the other nearby ‘establishments’ that may have taken her every day, for a while… until he’d picked up a burner phone to have the coroners call when unidentified little girls were brought in.  All it had taken was a depressive monologue about losing his little sister to get their cooperation – apparently, it was something a lot of them had done before.  He was… evidently far from the only one who regularly came to the places looking for lost relatives.  But no avenue, innocent or gnarly, had turned up a single _clue_. 

            …The vengeful veteran theory was looking more and more likely, with how hard he’d played into it.  _They shouldn’t care; it could be worse._   Probably, at least.  _You’re assuming they notice at all in the first place,_ a little voice pointed out flatly in the back of his mind, and he resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut – this wasn’t a place to let his guard down. 

            _Great.  Just great._   That was _just_ what he needed today. 

            But no avenue, innocent or awful, had turned up a single _hint_ of Mariemaia, and it had been over six weeks now.  If he didn’t know better, he’d have guessed she was never here to being with. 

            _If I didn’t know better, I might have wondered if she ever existed at all._  

            _…Screw it, the neighborhood’s not **that** bad._   Sighing, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the street sign he stood next to.  He was tired, bone deep _exhausted_ through and through, and he still had to decide what came next. 

            Going to Chang was one option; if he had continued on the route they had planned out, he would have come through here, possibly right past the damn ship itself, within a day or two of when everything went down.  There was a certain appeal to trying that angle, but it was weak.  Even if the timing had panned out perfectly so the two of them were there at the exact same time, the Chinese man had a bad habit of over focusing, he had his own concerns to cloud his mind – it was highly unlikely he’d seen anything useful. 

            The Peacecraft Regime was completely lost on the subject, and neither they or Treize and his men would have had any idea where to start looking.  If _he_ couldn’t find her with all the advantages he’d had of first lead, despite how thorough he’d been?  No, trying to piggyback one of their operations to sooth his conscience wouldn’t do anything but drag the misery out even further. 

            He could try catching up to Chang again – long odds were still _some_ odds – but they had only planned a route as far as Warsaw, and it had been almost seven weeks; the other man would be long gone, and he’d have to start from scratch.  Now that they were back in the main drag of Europe, the man’s ethnicity stood out far less, and Adam had managed to get rid of the majority of the man’s bad habits, taught him a few good ones.  _If he’s smart, I’ll never find him._  

            He stood up straight and grit his teeth together.  _No, that’s a wild goose chase._   The chances were slim to none that the two had been in close proximity in the first place, and even if they had _and_ Chang remembered seeing the girl, he would have no clue as to what happened to her after that.  _Best case scenario, I’d only be getting another dead end._   He was just desperate enough for a clue that it _felt_ promising, not because it _was_. 

            _No… whatever happened, the only way she’s going to be found now is sheer luck._   The thought was depressing, but he had just spent _weeks_ proving it.  Whatever evidence he’d missed for the truth, he’d let the trail run cold while chasing down nightmares. 

 

            He rubbed his temples, feeling incompetent, _useless_ … he hadn’t felt like this in a year.  He had left home and started his self-assigned crusade in part to prove himself… to find himself again.  And for the most part, he was happy with what he had done – he was pretty sure he had made more than a few major differences. 

            _But what did my meddling do this time?_   It made him want to pull away from everything and crawl back inside his shell of apathy; that held a disturbingly high level of comfort.  He had yet to decide on what he thought of that urge… on some level he hated it but on another it felt so familiar and safe, like that was how it ought to be. 

            It was from before, definitely… and maybe that was why it upset him so much, because he was _done_ digging in the past for answers that would never come.  He was here now…  and it seemed right that he should try to follow his emotions.  There was a sort of promise attached to that idea, and he had only found contentment since the Fall after he started living by the motto, this past year.  Even with this disaster, he knew he would not have been happy to act in any other way…  

            …It was just that it _was_ a complete disaster. 

            Looking up at the bleak sky, he finally admitted that he was working a lost cause; for whatever reason, it had been from the very start.  There was no point staying. 

            _Maybe it’s time to go home again._  

-

***

-

 **July 27 th 197 – Thursday** – **Grójec, Poland**

            I breathed hard, staring down at the body in something akin to horror. 

            _Shit._   There really hadn’t been much choice, the officer had approached me cautiously, and he’d said my name, he’d _recognized_ me; I couldn’t afford to be caught.  At the same time, though, I wanted to slap myself because a dead cop who had followed someone who looked like a fugitive was a far surer sign of my presence than a new contribution to the rumor mill that was based on one man’s word.  I ought to have just run. 

            “Jeff?  You got him?” 

            I was really beginning to hate my lack of cowardice. 

            I sprinted away as quietly as I could; I needed to be in Prague _yesterday_.  I’d been moving slow to try to draw less attention, but this chase was about to get intense again, and I wasn’t even out of Poland yet. 

-

***

-

            “Marlé.” 

            I looked up and smiled at Odin’s mutter, and nodded when he gestured at the window.  The bus was slowing, which meant it was almost time to get off, so I should make sure I had my stuff together.  The newspaper I’d been reading wasn’t any hassle, but I’d left the PlayPaq in the seat between us, so that needed to be put away, and I might have brought something else out and forgotten about it. 

            Odin didn’t like delays.  He didn’t get upset if I held us up for something stupid, but that dismayed sort of twitch would go through his face and I didn’t like seeing it, however brief.  And he had a point – it was easier not to deal with things if we went about in his… precise?… sort of way. 

            I liked my quiet new guardian; he was a little odd, but nice.  He didn’t treat me like a little kid; he reminded me a little of my mom, that way.  And I couldn’t help but admire the smooth way he managed to get anything done, which, I could tell from the past three weeks of watching his confusion when I bumbled, he took completely for granted. 

            _Well, the first two weeks,_ I reminded myself smugly.  I was getting better. 

            It was kinda crazy, the way we were chasing the other ex-pilot, but it was fun too.  It was a huge, convoluted riddle that we had to work out… and we were on an adventure straight out of a video game to do it.  I was learning cool stuff left and right, like this was some mission where we’d eventually hit a plot twist and I’d need all that EXP to somehow save the world.  It really wasn’t anything like that, and I knew that, of course… but I couldn’t wait to sneak up on my mother now that I’d mostly mastered Odin’s cat-like walk that didn’t make a sound. 

            He hadn’t required it, or even suggested I try, but when I’d told him to watch, to see if I had it right, he’d only blinked in surprise before nodding, smiling just a little.  He had corrected me once or twice since then, and started to explain how to rest my weight a little differently so it would be harder to knock me over… and he couldn’t even make me stumble if he shoved at me when we walked now.  Though part of that was that I saw him start to do it and almost leaned into the motion, or dodged it entirely… and that made him smile again. 

            We’d gone over bandaging almost immediately, and that had actually been really neat.  He’d been watched me all curious until I’d proven I could do it without help, and when I did it fast, and he’d seemed happy… maybe even proud.  I hadn’t realized exactly what that look meant at first, not until I realized he did it whenever he was showing me something new, or sometimes when he was flipping through websites on his laptop… and I wasn’t sure exactly what to call it, other than him trying to figure something out.  Like he was feeling me out, trying to see what I did and didn’t like? 

            Odin was too odd to just ask, apparently. 

            I liked how strange he was, though – he was _cool_. 

            “Where are we?” I asked quietly. 

            “Grójec,” he returned just as softly.  He frowned, briefly.  “I think something might be wrong.  We need to check.” 

            I pursed my lips a little, nodding.  Getting to Warsaw had been hard enough, picking up vague hints of trails that I still wasn’t sure how Odin identified, but he was positive that Wufei had gone to Kalingrad, then later to Warsaw.  It was obviously a very circuitous route, designed to throw off trackers, but Odin was _good_.  It was a little tedious, but since we didn’t have any information of our own, following was the only way to manage what we were trying to accomplish, he said.  He seemed a little annoyed by the situation, but it was the same kind of annoyed he had about his bad leg – which meant he refused to walk any different when it bothered him.  He’d just spent more time working on the strained muscles later that night. 

            So he, like… he kicked butt where most people wouldn’t even realize there was anything to accomplish in the first place.  The guy made his own rules to play by… and he was showing me how to do the same thing. 

            I smirked a little as the bus stopped and we stood.  School was going to be _beyond_ boring when I went back. 

-

***

-

**Treize’s hidden compound**

            Treize ground his teeth, glaring at his desk; it was likely solid enough that it wouldn’t take significant damage if he slammed a fist into it.  A dent, maybe, but not a puncture; just enough to keep from breaking his hand.  A physical reminder – both in the bruising and the mark – that there _was_ a reason to bother with composure despite being locked in an expansive but still confining set of rooms underneath a mountain with no one to see the mask fall. 

            House arrest was doing terrible things to his hold on his temper.  Luxemburg, at least, had been _home_.  Everything had been familiar, comfortable and comforting; he’d taken the time to work through another section of his father’s library before deciding on a course of action.  He’d even found one of his uncle Demetri’s journals tucked away behind a handful of paperbacks, and it had made him _laugh_ ; the General had always been so meticulous, everything in its place, that its loss must have driven him to absolute distraction.  His mother must have stolen it years ago just to tweak her elder brother’s nose, then forgotten about it completely; and any attempt to understand his one-time mentor’s insight had been as hopeless as ever, which made him laugh again.  No one had ever been able to figure out whether old Demetri’s insomnia-driven journaling was code or a sign of the genius man’s verging madness… or even joy a ploy and framing device he used to drive everyone _else_ to distraction.  But sometimes, it was fun to try… and to remember that he hadn’t always been so alone.  That he had _had_ forbears, brilliant men and women whose history he could look to for guidance, because by then, it had felt like OZ had been his for an eternity, that the ring and pony show he put on for the world had always been a burden he had to bear, always would be his responsibility. 

            Even living in an empty manor with his mother’s ghost around every corner, it had been better than this… this detachment.  Some days, nothing felt _real_ anymore… and it felt letting loose his anger at the whole debacle might help him _remember_ and stop missing the cues of all the other players, making _mistakes_. 

            Despite knowing that hitting solid oak would qualify as false harm, he still _wanted_ to do it, and he couldn’t tell anymore if that meant he was truly so upset or simply losing his self-control. 

            It was… depressing.  But that didn’t make the idea of _hitting_ something any less temping, with Váli’s latest news. 

 

-

_Tate,_

_You’ll never believe it!  The jackass who said he was taking a trip to Russia?  I just found him back here; the asshole’s just trying to avoid me.  I mean really, what the **fuck**?  I’m seeing what I can get out of him, but you should call and see if you can talk some sense into him.  If you’re not up to it, though, leave the bastard to me; so much for friends, huh?  _

_Write me back sometime or I’ll start thinking you’re just as bad as him. This is my new homepage, huh?  It needs some work, but maybe you could give me some ideas.  _

_Váli_

-

 

            Chang was _not_ in Moscow… and that burned.  He wouldn’t have thought the Chinese man was capable of that level of deception.  Additionally, he didn’t have men close enough anymore to move outpace the Regime troops already on his trail, so he had to leave it to Váli, damn it… and that carried a heavy risk of losing Chang to Zechs, possibly permanently. 

            The link led to a very derogative site about the Polish, with full graphics.  _How does he find the **time** for this?_ he wondered, not for the first time.  And there still wasn’t any news on Mariemaia, at _all_ … not even rumors.  He growled, pushing back from his desk and not quite stalking to the door. 

            This base had a gym, for all that he’d avoided it until now; it belonged to the men, and there was a certain value to keeping a layer of separation between ranks.  It limited casual familiarity, maintained the respect a man couldn’t help but feel when he was outclassed with little apparent effort.  He had his own exercise room, but he’d never bothered with a punching bag. 

            He _needed_ one right now, before he did something stupid that would inevitably reach the rumor mill. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “Father!  Father, come look at us!” 

            The bemused priest came out into the main of his church at Melissa’s call to find her, Chaos, Luc, Shov, Valio, Nic, Robby, and Gust capering about the main of his church, all but Chaos proudly sporting a new militia uniform. 

            “Wait just a moment,” he decided, holding up a hand in a ‘patience’ gesture and moving to the closet to take out the video camera.  Returning to the young men and woman, he smiled broadly as they began to laugh delightedly at the development. 

            _They really are still kids, in a lot of ways._   Despite what the times had pressed on them, the Devils all had a sort of mischief about them that comforted, made it clear how the name of their group was mere joke and bravado.  Lucas and Valio were the oldest of them all, now both twenty-three, and of this group, Melissa was the youngest at seventeen. 

            Well, Chaos was about her age too, for all that he refused to claim a date. 

            “Smile,” he suggested, pressing the record and using the little flip-out screen so he could look at them and cover the footage at the same time; he could have Amos tinker with the machine later to turn part of the video into freeze-frame photos.  _Mm, and Chaos has his Polaroid,_ he noticed happily as the boy grinned at him and silkily moved out of the camera’s line of view. 

            Rob grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back.  “Nuh uh, Kay, just because you’re too badass to wear the uniform doesn’t mean you get to slink away!” 

            He laughed and detached himself in such a way that it looked like he’d been let go, if you didn’t see Rob’s annoyed expression.  “I don’t match!” he returned glibly, darting back out of the view. 

            Espen spun around to focus on the elusive young man.  “Now, now, Chaos, we aren’t camera shy, are we?”  He knew full well the boy was, but it was something to tease him about.  The others were already calling insults. 

            Kay snorted in derision and brought his Polaroid up, effectively blocking his face from view.  “Say cheese, Father.” 

            There was a giggle for warning as his girlfriend jumped on his back and he brought the Polaroid down to steady them.  She brought her arms around his neck and clasped her hands in front of his chest, smiling impishly at the camera; her eyes were bright, ponytail falling over one shoulder.  “Come on Kay, just a couple pictures.  You can go through the film yourself, huh?”  He looked up at her with a tolerant sort of smile before turning to the Father with something of a sheepish look.  The girl sniggered slightly and rested her head on Chaos’ shoulder, looking back to the camera. 

            “I dare say she has you whipped, boy,” Espen informed him laughingly. 

            The ex-soldier chuckled happily, his eyes lighting up with pleasure.  “Is that a bad thing?” 

            “I couldn’t tell you,” he returned honestly, setting them all laughing more. 

            Melissa was one of the most photogenic people he had ever come across; most lost that quality after entering their teens.  She had their American smiling genuinely at the camera now, hitching her up slightly to settle her weight better.  The girl smiled even more brightly and turned to kiss him on the cheek, which made him turn and kiss her chastely back on the lips. 

            Smile widening, Espen focused back on the rest of the group as Shov dashed forward and snatched the Polaroid, cackling in an evil sort of way as he evaded Kay’s attempt to grab him. 

            The priest had known when Relena Peacecraft had announced the start of militia that a good number of the Devils would join.  That had been nearly three weeks ago; since the announcement had been made before the preparations began, uniforms were only just being sent out.  The majority of the Devils had immersed themselves in the new prosperity, working in the textiles and office jobs that were starting up… but these five were the best fighters from the group, and had requested more active duty. 

            They had their uniforms now; he could only assume they had shifts as well.  The new economy outlook was exciting; jobs had been scarce for over a year now, and the city was absolutely humming with the productivity.  If only one program did this, and it was only the Peacecraft princess’s second implementation?  He could hardly wait to see what came next.  That woman – only the same age as Chaos and Melissa, but woman, still – was the answer to more than a few of his prayers. 

            “What’s this?” asked Isabel happily, coming out into the main with more than a few little ones in tow. 

            “These fellows in uniform came through our doors, Sister,” the priest informed the nun as if he didn’t know the group.  “I believe they forgot there isn’t any mass on Thursday afternoon.” 

            They all protested that as he and the sister laughed.  Really, they all _did_ come to mass regularly.  Chaos was usually managing the children during the services instead of listening, but they all knew the times. 

            Val grinned and dropped into a crouch, which had Coby immediately running to him, a smile plastered across his face.  For some reason, the toddler had long ago taken to the young man, and Valio had happily taken up a position as his favorite ‘uncle’.  Cassandra smiled shyly at everyone before gravitating over to Chaos and Melissa, who came to simply play with the children more often; she didn’t really know the others.  They immediately shifted their attention to her and Espen found himself smiling more.  Whether they stayed together or went separate ways in the end, those two would both make wonderful parents someday.  All the children were either napping or in school… though the Helen, Fran, Ferik, and Amos should be home in a little over an hour, and it was almost time to go pick up the kindergartners. 

            In all the mess of _Libra’s_ aftermath, at least the schools had been kept running. 

            And now?  Not only were they managing, as he had always known they would, but it looked like they might start doing _well_ again… and that was more than enough to be thankful for. 

-

***

-

**Grójec, Poland**

            I definitely hadn’t been reading too much into it.  There was an active search party out, and a nearly frantic one at that. 

            He was _close_ – and I wasn’t the only one following him anymore. 

            “What?” asked Marlé in a whisper, focusing on the man who had caught my attention. 

            I started leading us to the hostel I had seen on the last street at a fast jog.  “Did you see how he moved?” 

            She frowned.  “Um… it was the same as the last person you noticed?  I’m not sure _what_ was different, but it was.” 

            I smiled a little; she had proven to be a much faster study than I had hoped, and she had the same kind of enthusiasm I remembered employing myself… that I would still, if the situation rose for it.  “He knew how to rest his weight for balance,” I explained as we continued to run.  “But what about how he felt?” 

            Her eyes widened, and she grinned, catching onto point.  “Nervous.”  She licked her lips, puffing a little; they weren’t jogging _too_ hard, but running and talking with ease was something that took practice… and maybe it _was_ fast for a little girl.  “You think it’s about him?” 

            Slowing slightly, I nodded and gestured at the hostel we were coming up on.  She frowned at that, but I shook my head.  “They might recognize you if you came with me.”  And even if she was learning the basics of fighting from me, I was _not_ going to put her in this sort of situation; she was far from ready, though I was suspected she could slide a few surprises in.  As we walked in, I reached into my pocket and dropped a decent fistful of bills on the counter; the lobby was empty other than the woman behind the counter.  “We need a place to sleep for the two of us, but I need to go get our train tickets for tomorrow,” I explained, purposely verging on breathless – I had been getting better at my acting.  “Marlé can work out the details.”  I moved to shove my ‘sister’, then only nudged in truth, causing her to overcompensate then squawk indignantly at me as she caught herself from falling over.  I chuckled, something I had caught myself doing more and more often lately, and waved a rough good-bye before running back out the door. 

            I _liked_ the effect she had me.  I felt more like I had when I was young, before that last year leading to Odin’s death, when he was virtually a dark cloud. 

            …And apparently I was picking up on her speech patterns as well. 

            The past seven weeks had been spent constantly busy, working the chase and shoring up Marlé’s practical education, but despite the pressure, life had the same sort of carefree tone as those lazy days I had spent shopping and simply enjoying Dasha’s company.  _Well, excluding a number of activities._   Somehow, everything was less something that needed to be done and just more… fun. 

            The oddest part of it all, though, was now that I had someone consistently calling me Odin, I was starting to think of myself by that name.  And it felt _right_.  From what I remembered of my childhood, there was even a decent chance of it being my real name.  It had always been “kid” or “junior” in private, but the last flight Odin and I took together was far from the first time he introduced me as Odin Lowe Jr. 

            I hadn’t thought I cared about what I was called: names were just so you could refer to specific people easier.  But now… it was almost as if I’d gotten something back, something important that I _wanted_ , even though I hadn’t realized I missed it in the first place. 

            Coming around a corner, I smirked as I found one of the men with the same walk, then heard a radio crackle.  These ones were far less subtle than Treize’s, and he didn’t take any notice of me when I began to stalk him, listening to his com; the volume was turned up so loud, I didn’t have to even be stay close.  _Regime._  

            This would be much easier than all the hours I’d put in over the last few months. 

-

***

-

**Kursk, Russia**

            Ivan Alekseev blinked at his wife’s confused look, considering the camera again.  She had asked him where Danielle had gotten it.  When he tried to remind her that she had put it in his bag before he left on his last business trip, she had fetched and an looked it over again before shaking her head. 

            “I’ve never seen it before,” she admitted, turning it over in her hands.  “It certainly seems useful, but I didn’t even know they made something like this.” 

            He scratched his head.  “Well, how else could it have wound up in my bag?”  This was just _weird_ … 

            Kristine pursed her lips, handing the machine back to their daughter.  “When did you first notice it?” she asked.  “Your satchel’s a common style; maybe you set it down by your seat on the train and someone put it in there on accident?” 

            He frowned, considering that.  _Maybe…_  But then it had disappeared just as suddenly as- 

            His body went cold as he thought of other possibilities.  It wasn’t all that likely, but…  _Oh **shit** , it’s a **recording device**!_   He had noticed the first one had a couple sound files that were a few minutes or less on there, but had assumed they were songs or preloaded sounds and tunes; he hadn’t gotten around to playing with it before he’d lost the thing.  “Let me check something,” he muttered to Kristine, moving into the kitchen to pull his cell off the charger and flip off the casing, pulling out the battery… to find a tiny sticker with circuitry against the motherboard that he _knew_ wasn’t supposed to be there. 

            _Fuck!_  

-

***

-

**Grójec, Poland**

            Odin slammed an elbow into his mark’s temple, causing him to drop like a sack of bricks.  The man had just checked in, and they were closing in on Wufei; the timing wasn’t going to get any better.  Snatching up the radio, he started sprinting.  He had listened long enough to have a good idea of where the others were, so it wouldn’t be too hard to avoid them – especially since they kept updating. 

            His window was still limited, though; if he’d caught the meaning to their code right, their orders were to attempt to bring him in alive, but it wasn’t an absolute requirement.  And at least two of these men actively _wanted_ to have an accident and take the slap on the wrist for handing over a corpse instead of a warm body to interrogate. 

            He pumped his legs harder, a little uneasy but… mostly just feeling in sync with the world.  Doubtless,  tonight would have consequences – moving like he was, like he was _planning_ to, he was hurting his leg.  But so long as held up through what he needed tonight?  It was a price he was willing to pay. 

            The adrenaline slamming through his system was incredible.  It was like flying again – letting loose and just _running_ , he felt more alive than he had since his stay with Dasha, or the fight with Zechs.  The only discomfort in his leg for now was a deep stretch, and he felt himself grinning at the sheer _victory_ of having this again, wanting to howl laughing, to go _faster_ , nothing but him and the wind and the sheer _joy_ of reaching for his limits and rushing right past them.  He had been trying so hard to not think of the fact that he might never get here again, but now? 

            _Nothing_ could stop him now. 

-

***

-

**Treize’s hidden compound**

            “There was a what?” Treize demanded as coolly as he could.  He had worked himself into exhaustion over the past few hours, his face pouring sweat. 

            “I think it might be a bug,” Alekseev hissed, sounding more than a little panicked.  “No one acted suspicious at all, and leaving some contraption like that in my bag as a going away present is something my wife has _done_ before, Sir.  I only just found out she never bought anything like it.” 

            Treize took a deep breath, quietly enough that his subordinate shouldn’t hear over the phone; this was most certainly too late of news to be useful, but it might make sense out of some past discrepancies.  “Calm down, Ivan.”  He gestured to the assistant who had brought him the phone in the first place… Jordan Fiscu.  “Jordan, tell the tech to save this phone log instead of erasing it; we might need to analyze it later.”  He focused back on the phone.  “Alekseev, start over.  Give me every detail you think might be related.” 

-

***

-

**Grójec, Poland**

            My only warning was a downright _feral_ snarl before I was knocked down… and a bullet whizzed over my head.  I didn’t even have time to gasp before I was half drug from the ground and given a firm shove.  “Move!” 

            Following the order, I couldn’t decide if I was happy or furious; I’d just had to have my ass saved _again_.  Shit, when we got out of this, Adam was going to _kill_ me before delivering me to Po in _swaddling cloths_ so _she_ could kill me.  _I_ wanted to kill me three times over for the sheer incompetence I had displayed since leaving Egypt. 

            Adam slapped my side to indicate we were turning here, and swallowing my disgust, I did as I was told; I heard the heel of his boot grind in the dirt as he spun to fire four rounds at our pursuers in fast succession.  

            A few cries sounded, as well as a bloodcurdling _shriek_ , then cursing.  A bare moment later, he was dogging my heels again, tapping his knuckles against my back in an order to speed up. 

            I could have _sworn_ wasn’t this fast the last time we’d had to run for our lives.  His reflexes had been beyond me and he’d had an insane ability to _jump_ , but I had had the better sprint. 

            Apparently he’d only been humoring me; he was tapping my back again in irritation.  I had no idea how he wasn’t running _on_ my heels. 

            A radio barked, and the men Adam had just shot were reporting that they were down, and what direction we had gone in… that there were two of us.  I willed more speed into my legs. 

            It barked again a moment later.  “Corso, status?” 

            My would-be partner snorted in amusement, letting me know where he’d gotten the walkie.  He slapped my other side to indicate another turn, and I didn’t argue. 

-

***

-

            Hilde muttered a curse as more men ran past, talking into their radios.  This was one damn big mess… even when she had managed to get caught, she hadn’t caused half as much ruckus as _this_. 

            _I’m going to have to pull back,_ she realized, annoyed.  There were just too many soldiers on the streets; her presence itself was too much of a liability.  Hopefully, Chang could save his own hide; if not, she was stuck confirming the grab and running home for reinforcements.  Shaking her head, she casually walked own a different street with the big brown grocery bag she was using as an excuse to be about.  _Isn’t this just **grand**?_  

-

***

-

            It took more than half an hour to lose their tail and secure a temporarily safe building that they could talk in, and by then Odin’s leg had long since started to scream, but it was still ignorable; he had a ways yet before it would buckle and refuse to work.  He noted with some satisfaction that his old comrade had lost the ponytail.  _Good._  He’d thought it odd that he hadn’t changed his hair-style since the end of the war.  The other pilot was much slower than he remembered, which was aggravating, but he probably had a legitimate reason. 

            It was dark, but the ex-pilot’s body language abruptly changed, and he moved to increase the few meters between them now.  “You’re not Adam,” he seemed to realize suddenly.  “You’re too short to be Adam.” 

            Heero raised a brow, but decided against giving him crap for that; Adam must be the name of the friend who had helped him escape Alekseev.  In the heat of the moment and in darkness, he supposed it was an acceptable mistake.  “It’s Heero.” 

            “Heero?” 

            His voice was confused… and not the momentary sort of confusion at an unbelievable fact – genuine bewilderment.  Disbelief creeping up his spine, he groped at the wall by the door for a light switch and flipped one up. 

            Ice ran through his veins as he really looked in the man’s face for the first time.  He had the same coat that he had seen in Jerusalem, that Heero had caught maybe a glimpse or two of since as well.  There was the same lilt and tone to the voice… 

            …but it wasn’t Wufei’s face. 

            “You’re not Chang Wufei,” he heard himself say in the monotone he had been doing his best not to use since Israel.  He had come _so far_ … and it wasn’t him?  But the things he could do, the things he had shown he was capable of, and what Treize’s people had said- 

            “Chang Xutao,” he returned, still breathing hard from their run. 

            The urge to laugh hysterically at his own assumptions was suppressed; it _was_ a common name, wasn’t it?  _Fuck…  Three months’ pursuit, for nothing?_   He had to be entirely sure.  “You were in Jerusalem, April 30th?” 

            The man’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded.  Heero let out something of a growl, holstering the gun that he hadn’t consciously realized he had drawn at this ‘Shootaow’s’ bewildered tone.  “My apologies,” he muttered flatly.  _I should have stayed with the Sronas until I finished healing…  Maybe Quatre would have come back._   He had _wasted_ so much time and- 

            _No,_ he realized.  No, that was wrong.  _If I hadn’t come after him, I wouldn’t have found Marie._  

            He would never have met Dasha and learned her easy view on the world.  There were so _many_ other things too, little things, that he had come across or learned about, or focused on because of the journey…  Without the push of working new identities, remembering how to lie convincingly, he wouldn’t remember so much more about Odin.  He wouldn’t have gotten nearly as good at bringing emotion back into his voice, both naturally or on command, and he’d forgotten how _enjoyable_ that could be.  

            …And really, just finding Marlé was enough. 

            He shook his head a little.  It _had_ been worth it, yes; but _this_ certainly wasn’t anymore.  “I’m sorry, I had thought you were someone else.  I would not suggest following me; I won’t appreciate it.”  He had to get back to the hostel… and it wasn’t going to be a short walk now, with his leg growing weaker.  They could start looking for her mother tomorrow. 

            And just because it the chase hadn’t been worthless didn’t mean that it didn’t _hurt_ to realize he wasn’t any closer to finding someone from _Peacemillion_ again.  He had felt so sure, begun to look forward to seeing an ally, one of his _equals_ so much that losing it… 

            He hadn’t realized just how much stock he’d put in the idea.  He and Wufei had never been particularly close, but they’d survived the impossible together, and he had just… _wanted_. 

            It was only now, after failing to get it, that he was just… looking into this _hole_ and realizing that he didn’t have a single solid idea of exactly _what_ he wanted, what he was actually running after in the first place.  He didn’t even like Wufei.  He wanted to see Duo again, and Quatre’s absence ached like a broken bone set wrong.  When he let himself feel anything about it, losing Quatre was so much worse than realizing Trowa was gone the same as Odin, even if his body was still living and breathing, worn by someone new.  _If Quatre never…_  

            If he never stopped waiting to see Quatre again, would it just… stay this way?  _It wouldn’t be so bad._   Better than the yawning ache from when his father had died – it had been years before he’d been ready to even think about what had gone wrong that day.  From everything he’d learned since hitting Wing’s self-destruct, he couldn’t be happy unless he let his emotions lead him take him wherever they willed, so he knew Odin had been right about that – but sometimes they hurt enough that it would have been kinder to bleed. 

            _Back to Marlé and rest,_ he decided.  They could figure out where to start on finding Leia after his leg stopped shaking; it was getting worse a lot faster than he’d anticipated.  She needed him, more than he’d needed Odin when he died – as much as he’d needed Quatre after _Libra_ , maybe. 

            Warmth flooded his chest made breathing easier again, he pivoted before allowing himself the smile that wanted to break through.  He wanted to tell Moira what he’d done.  _Maybe-_  

            “Wait,” Xutao protested, taking a step forward as Odin reached for the door.  “Wait a minute!” 

            He paused, not bothering to look back; he didn’t know if Xutao had gotten a good enough look at his face to make him, but there wasn’t any point at increasing his odds.  “What?” 

            The other teenager hesitated, one foot scuffing in what was probably nervous body language. 

            Heero tipped his head to one side, making it clear he wasn’t bothered by having his back to him, and didn’t bother repeating the question – a little arrogance worked as well as a gruff word, often enough. 

            Another shuffle, but with none of the rustling cloth of a weapon being taken from concealment, just that nervous energy.  Then finally, in a guarded tone:

            “How do you know Wufei?” 

-

***

-

**Unknown**

            Wufei sighed as the phone rang, looking at the schematic and debating if he cared enough to answer.  Straightening his glasses, he realized he _had_ been working for several hours already, and picked up the receiver.  _“Wei.”_   He smiled when he heard who it was.  _“Shui!”_   _Has he come up with something else?  The bastard._ _“Nin hao ma?”_  

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone see that coming? There's another secret hidden within that whole subplot, if you drop Heero's assumptions and pick up some new ones - feel free to look back over the chapters involving it, lol, you might be surprised at what you turn up. 
> 
> Thoughts, comments, theories? I'll try to get Ch 24 up within the next few days.


	24. Rise to the Occasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing stays the same. Whatever your hopes or reservations, time marches on, and you either find a way to cope with it or you get left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minimal editing in this one; once again, a touch more background, but nothing super critical.

**-**

**_Rise to the Occasion _ **

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**July 27 th 197 – Thursday – Brussels, Belgium**

            “You excited?” 

            Jake snorted as he did another pull-up.  “I’ve been stuck in offices for almost two years.  Do you really need to ask?” 

            “If you really wanted the great outdoors, you could have requested a change of post,” Dave argued.  He’d been stunned when he thought back and realized just how _long_ the younger man had managed to sit still; he’d never been able to, before.  His longest commitment before _Libra_ had been OZ, but even that had only worked out because Treize had taken such a hands off approach and let him be ADD, blowing off orders he didn’t like and picking his own missions.  And even that still hadn’t stopped him from bailing – first in 188, then again, permanently, two years after he’d finally come back. 

            The measure of Jake’s affection couldn’t be read in whether he stayed.  He didn’t know _how_ to run on anything but all cylinders, all the time, and he was a level of workaholic that demanded he move on if he couldn’t stay busy.  If _Treize_ hadn’t been able to sate that constant need to move, to _do_ something, Dave figured no one could.  You couldn’t catch or corner him, and trying to guilt him into something would see him assuring success from an entirely unimagined angle while he vanished from your line of sight. 

            He’d given up hoping his friend would outgrow it years ago, and while he’d been wounded the first handful of times the other man hadn’t dragged him along for the ride, eventually he’d realized that the people Jake didn’t care about never saw him again after he ran out of spool with their work.  Dave, on the other hand, would wake up some morning after months of nothing only to find him asleep on his couch and a convoluted story about his latest gig. 

            So maybe Zechs thought he had him pinned down here, but that was only because Jake wanted something more from this arrangement, still.  Noin had been one of the man’s touchstones for longer than David, really, and Zechs had an annoying habit of assuming he had rights to anything of hers.  _He’ll figure it out the same as everyone else, eventually._   Despite what he was claiming now, there was no way he would have stayed with the Regime if he’d been bored. 

            Jake shook his head in denial, not slowing his pace.  “A) Zechs had me set trying to find members of what’s become the dissention my every waking hour for the first year after _Libra_ – before he finally thought it was viable that I might do shit where he had other specialists in place already.  And B) none of the jobs I could have taken appealed.” 

            _Ah._   So he’d been given enough power and leeway to pursue his own projects, and probably lost track of time.  _Again._   “You _were_ getting paid to just sit on your ass,” Mitchell noted.  “There’s something both incredibly appealing yet utterly disgusting about that.” 

            His friend laughed, still going.  “Yeah, I thought you’d appreciate that.”  Tilting his head for a moment, holding himself at the height of his movement, he seemed to consider.  “I guess I was just waiting for the right opportunity to come bite me in the ass.” 

            David snorted, only halfway believing him.  “Your post was interesting once Catalonia stumbled on you,” he noted, remembering.  “I thought half the shit you said was exaggerated until I went with them to China.” 

            Swinging slightly as he switched his hands around so that his palms were facing away, the other ex-Special started doing pull-ups again, although more slowly.  “She’s a cute kid,” he dismissed.  “Odd, and more than a touch confused about life in general, but she’s not that bad.”  Shaking his head and snickering, he added, “She keeps everyone on their toes with the outrageous shit she says, but I think it’s at least half a cry for attention.” 

            “Ploys for attention, sure, I can see that,” he conceded. “But Catalonia’s hardly a kid.” 

            “What, she kiss you again?” 

            David blushed even as he shook his head.  “No, and that’s not what I meant.  Relena’s not really a kid anymore either.” 

            Dropping from the bar, Jake sat down.  “True, but it doesn’t have anything to do with age at this point.  Either Dorothy makes Relena look like an old woman, or Relena makes Dorothy look like a toddler.  When you boil it down to maturity level, Dorothy’s still in middle school.” 

            “If that were true, they wouldn’t enjoy each other’s company as much as they do,” David argued.  Mental age was more important than literal by a long shot; which was one of the reason Dorothy was so damn bewildering. 

            Jake rolled his eyes.  “Dorothy’s always just trying to get a rise out of Lena, and the princess mostly finds it amusing.  If you’re trying to put a finger on what their relationship is like, your closest bet would be sisters, where Relena’s a handful of years senior.  Trust me on this; they’re close, but not exactly what you would call best friends.” 

            “Eh, I guess I can see that.”  He tilted his head slightly, smiling.  “So how do you like spending all your time with teenage girls, anyhow?” 

            The blonde chuckled, leaning over to punch Dave in the shoulder.  “Why do you think I’m so eager to come hang out when I get a break?”  When David started laughing, he grinned and shook his head.  “No, really?  It’s not too bad.  Relena’s easygoing and only goes all girly on me when she’s trying to get ready for a press conference, and even then she keeps it to herself and Dorothy.  Dorothy…”  He shrugged a little.  “She can get frustrating sometimes, but mostly she just…”  Sighing, he finished with a quiet, “The way she takes to me anymore really _is_ like a kid wanting approval or interest.” 

            “Reminds you of Junior, huh?” his friend returned softly, all the humor gone from the conversation. 

            Jake swallowed.  “Yeah… sometimes.”  He sighed again.  “Let’s go… I don’t know, bowl, or something.” 

            “…You want to go _bowling_?” 

            He smirked.  “I’ve never bowled in my life, it sounded like something to do.” 

            “I vote for pool.” 

            “Alright, just let me get my coat.” 

-

***

-

**Grójec, Poland**

            Heero limped into the room after disengaging the lock with the key the woman at the counter had given him.  Marlé looked up at him, her expression excited.  It quickly turned to concern, however, and she nimbly leapt from the bed to the bathroom, setting the water running. 

            His rising smile turning into more of a grimace as electricity shot through his leg again, he eased himself up onto the bed and started to massage around his thigh.  That made the pain worse, but pain wasn’t any sort of real issue, and it would help.  Marlé came back from the bathroom and started unlacing his boots. 

            He really did smile at that.  “Thank-you,” he muttered softly. 

            She shrugged, though she was frowning.  “You didn’t catch him, huh?” 

            Odin closed his eyes, grimacing again. 

 

-

_“Wait,” Xutao protested.  “Wait a minute!  How do you know Wufei?”_

-

 

            “I did.  It wasn’t actually him,” he muttered as he yanked his coat off.  There was a hint of anger in his voice that surprised him, and he paused; he didn’t know if he had _ever_ sounded… angry.  Shaking his head, he looked over to her wide eyes, wanting to laugh darkly but suppressing the urge, holding his hands to his head instead.  “I know why I thought it was him, they even used to know each other, but he has no idea where Wufei is now.” 

 

-

            _“You know Chang Wufei?” he snapped, turning back to face the man._

_His eyes were big.  “Shenlong’s pilot?  Yeah… we went to school together.  They dormed everyone alphabetically – we were roommates.”_

_“Roommates?” he returned levelly, but the pieces were coming together…  They had the same accent, the same way of standing, even.  “Are you related?”_

_Xutao rolled his eyes.  “Maybe twelfth cousins five times removed.  If we were, it wasn’t enough to count.  We were both from L5-A0206 though, and if you look back far enough, we were all related somehow.”  He frowned.  “Who are you, though?”_

_“More than just Wufei survived the colony’s destruction?” Odin asked instead.  That was good news…_

_The Chinese man winced, bringing a hand up to cover his face.  “I wasn’t there when it happened,” he explained quietly.  “I left before Wufei did, before the war started, to be honest…  The asshole had said he wasn’t going to get into fighting, so I was Master O’s first choice for Shenlong.  But then he changed his mind after his wife died, and he just blew me out of the water.”_

_Odin had to fight to control his expression at that. **Wufei was married?**   That was a little odd… not that he expected the other pilot to have ever mentioned it, considering what Xutao had just said.  The oddity was more that he had seen the other’s file, and knew that he had only been fifteen when he fell to Earth in Operation Meteor.  That was hardly important now, though.  The fact that Chang Xutao had both grown up with Wufei to some degree and had been a gundam pilot candidate made a lot of little things make sense too, but it was equally inconsequential in terms of what he wanted.  “Do you know where he is now?”  _

_His eyes narrowed.  “Who **are** you?”  _

_“Heero Yuy,” he snapped coldly, irritated.  “I thought you were **him** , and I wouldn’t have chased you across the damn continent if I’d known the truth.  Do you know where he is or not?”  _

_Xutao’s eyes were wide, now, looking him up and down as if in confirmation.  “You’re really alive?”_

_“You’re wasting my time,” the other returned plainly, glaring at him._

_His startled expression was vaguely fearful, but not so much as that look usually warranted.  “No, I don’t… but you should come with me, talk to Sally Po.  She’d assumed you were dead.”_

_Heero blinked. **Sally Po?**   “What does Dr. Po have to do with anything?”  _

_“She’s heading the rebellion against Zechs,” Xutao informed him, crossing his arms, and looking just a touch smug at Heero’s apparent lack of knowledge._

_That wasn’t an entirely bad idea… eventually, anyway.  “I have a few things that I have to take care of,” he decided after a moment.  If the rebellion was worth anything, it wouldn’t fall apart before he finished the tasks he had set to himself._

_And Po’s actions on the **Peacemillion** suggested that the Resistance was as organized as the rumors had always claimed.  _

-

 

            “That… sucks,” Marlé noted, visibly drooping.  “You worked so hard to find him…” 

            He sighed, pulling off his sweater.  “I have a way to contact the best rebel group now, so it wasn’t entirely a waste.  The faction he’s with… apparently some of the other people I used to know are there too, so I can go there eventually.  And from what he said, Xutao knows how to pilot a mobile suit pretty decently if the struggle goes back in that direction, so he’s a good ally to have.” 

            “It still sucks,” the girl noted as she finished getting his second boot off.  “And you pushed it harder than you should have, huh?” 

            He gave her a half annoyed look.  “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” 

            She sniggered a little at that.  “I bet it did.”  Smiling brightly at him, she added, “We’ve got a tub this time, though, so you can soak for real.” 

            That did sound nice.  “Thank-you.”  He frowned at her a little thoughtfully, and decided it couldn’t hurt to say what was on his mind.  “You’re really helpful.” 

            She flushed with pleasure at that, before moving to work at the muscles in the calf of his bad leg.  It had startled him the first time she asked if she could help, but, as she never tried to go above his knee, it wasn’t too uncomfortable of a process; made it go faster, really.  He had lost his pride at needing help back in Jerusalem, at least for the most part. 

            “Thanks,” he muttered again, continuing to work at his thigh.  He hadn’t been able to really keep it submerged in hot water for a long while, and as he had to wait for the tub to fill anyhow, he would get more of a benefit from working at the sore muscles both before and after the water.  “We can start looking for your mother tomorrow,” he suggested to his young friend.  They hadn’t had much luck on the computer so far, but he hadn’t put his back into it either. 

            “Alright,” she returned easily.  “It’s not a huge rush, though; I’ve been missing for a while anyhow – it won’t hurt to wait until you can walk without the cane.” 

            “I’ll be fine,” he returned, glaring at her slightly… to which she just rolled her eyes.  “I shouldn’t need the cane tomorrow,” he argued.  _Probably._   He was relatively sure he hadn’t regressed _that_ far. 

            Marlé shrugged a little, biting her lip as she put just a touch more pressure on a knot, making the entire muscle spasm and jerk. 

            He grit his teeth, seeing her point, but still glared when she gave him a skeptical look. 

            Shaking her head, she drawled out, “ _Sure_ …  So what happened?  Was it hard to catch him?” 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium**

            Milliardo looked up when the door to his suite opened, and smiled when he saw that it was his sister.  “Relena,” he greeted happily.  Despite literally living next door, they were both so busy that they rarely saw each other.  Glancing at the clock, he bit his lip.  _I must have lost track of time._   “Do you want to get some lunch?” 

            She shook her head.  “I already ate.  You,” she muttered, gesturing at one of the aides.  “Can you tell someone to get Mr. Peacecraft something to eat?  It’s almost two in the afternoon.”  The woman flushed slightly and nodded before settling her paperwork on one of the smaller desks arrayed around the room and making her way over to the door.  When the Lightning Count raised a brow, she smirked slightly.  “You need someone to make sure you take care of yourself the same as Dorothy does.” 

            _…Come to think of it, when Dorothy was immediately under my wing instead of Relena’s, meals just appeared at convenient times._   “We should put Catalonia in charge of the kitchens,” he muttered jokingly.  Eyeing the folder she was carrying, he sighed.  “I suppose you didn’t just want my company?” 

            Her sweet little smile was apologetic… and she really was beginning to look like their mother; that little smile filled him with an odd sort of nostalgia.  In most aspects, his little sister was nothing like their forthright mother had been, but she had certainly inherited her appearance.  She made her way up to his primary desk, and he motioned quickly for one of his aides to make room for what she was presenting; Relena never came to him with anything unless it was a fully formatted, finished proposal. 

            Opening up the thick blue folder, she started laying out papers on the freshly cleared space.  “I’m taking a surveying tour of Europe.” 

            His stomach clenched, hard, as her wording struck him.  Merely raising his brows, however, he considered the itinerary she had placed directly in front of him.  It was… a touch radical.  Some places were reasonable enough, but others?  “This needs to be reevaluated,” he decided.  “I’m not against the idea, but-” 

            “No.” 

            “…Excuse me?” 

            “My tour includes the areas that need the most work done, to at least a great enough degree that the details of further evaluation can be worked out,” she explained calmly.  “This is necessary to continue my programs to the greatest potential.” 

            He met her eyes and found them completely cool, serene – like the waters of a tranquil lake.  “I cannot send you into rebel hot spots,” he returned just as coolly. 

            Resting her hands on his desk and leaning forward, Relena declared, “You cannot punish civilians for the actions of guerrilla fighters.  The probability of insurgent residents does not change the fact that those areas require aid.” 

            “Your safety is paramount, Sister,” he reminded her.  “Send out teams to survey if you wish, but I will not allow you to do anything that might endanger you.” 

            “Half the point of doing this, Brother, is to regain the confidence of the people; a public act of faith is necessary, as is a shown willingness to directly approach the problems.” 

            “It is far from _necessary_ to personally walk the dives of the world,” he argued, unable to keep the ice out of his tone.  This was ridiculous; a tour was understandable, but the areas ought to be carefully selected for the best exposure to the public for the greatest effect, not simply visiting _all_ troubled areas of the continent.  “You will revise this list to compile a more appropriate trip before I approve it.” 

            Those clearwater eyes were dispassionate as she leaned back to stand fully upright again.  “I was not asking, Milliardo,” she informed him.  “I merely thought you would like to know my schedule.  My sponsor has already approved it, and the plans have been set in motion.  I will be leaving in less than a week.”  Glancing at her watch, she noted, “I have a meeting I need to get to down in Restoration.”  She gestured at the papers she had left on his desk.  “That’s your copy of my itinerary.” 

            He stood as she turned to walk away from him.  “You cannot do this if I refuse to let the motion through,” he argued. 

            The princess looked back over her shoulder at him.  “Legal age is seventeen, Brother, and you were never my guardian in any case.  As the funding is not coming through you, the most you could do to restrict me is refuse me my honor guard.  I would appreciate it if you would allow me the men I am familiar with to continue protecting me, but if you refuse, I have been approved to hire bodyguards for the trip with RLTT funding as well.”  When he simply stared at her, she began to walk back out of the suite again.  “Good day, Milliardo.”  Nothing in her tone suggested she meant anything but honestly good sentiment with the comment. 

            He stared after her for a moment, his mind reeling.  _She just…_   It was unthinkable; he hadn’t thought her wanting or even capable of the action she had just taken.  His lunch arrived shortly thereafter, and he sent everyone out so he could eat alone and consider the paperwork she had left him with.  He had been careful not to broach her legal status, and had not thought she would choose to throw it in his face nearly four months after she was a full adult. 

            Any actions he tried to take now would only make him look bad, if she had truly officiated it already.  There was nothing to be done, except remember that she was capable of surprising him like this, doing as she willed without his knowledge.  That was worrisome… 

            But at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel a little proud.  Maybe she was more like their mother than he had thought after all. 

-

***

-

**Kielce, Poland**

            “Jumpy, aren’t we?” 

            Xutao glared at the woman, shifting his bag’s weight slightly.  “I’ve spent the last four months in hell,” he informed her bluntly.  “My nerves are fried.” 

            Hilde rolled her eyes, shoving him back into the room he’d just left with one hand.  “No kidding, Xu.  For a while in there, Po was convinced you were dead; it’s good to see that the rumors were true, for once.”  She smiled a little mischievously.  “You completely lost _everyone_ for a long while, though, and that’s pretty cool.  Until a couple days ago, for all we knew you were still in Africa.” 

            He grimaced; she didn’t realize he had only lost his all trackers for one of those four months, and it had been with substantial help from a rogue… and he had found out the night before last that he really hadn’t lost _everyone_ after all.  Given, it _was_ an ex-gundam pilot who had tracked him alone for the past two months, but it still stung. 

            She frowned.  “What?” 

            “It’s complicated,” he returned shortly, shrugging his bag higher on his shoulder again.  “But this really isn’t the place for talk.” 

            She raised a brow at that, giving him a skeptical look that he hated before shrugging herself.  “True enough.  Let’s get back, then.” 

            He followed her lead, as she had already planned a route home, feeling miserable.  This was bad enough… and it would only be worse once the truth came out.

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium**

            Jake raised his eyebrows when she came out and gave him a tiny smirk, which he returned before following her down to the main of the base.  “How did it feel?” he asked quietly enough that only she would be able to hear him, even if the hall was crowded. 

            The princess smiled brightly at him.  “It was brilliant.  He was completely caught off guard; he couldn’t believe that I hadn’t come for approval.”  The smile disappeared as she bit one lip, thinking.  “I don’t _think_ he would try to take my guard, but I practically dared him to.” 

            Her bodyguard shook his head.  “He wouldn’t; he trusts me far more than he would someone you could go and hire.  He’s only worried anyhow.  You doing this will really just force him to get used to the idea that you’re independent from him again.” 

            She nodded at that, then grinned at him, eyes sparkling.  “I made him break his composure,” she revealed.  “He didn’t ruffle mine at all, but he didn’t look terribly calm by the end of the conversation.” 

            Jake snorted, shaking his head.  “Oh _dear_ , sibling rivalry exists in every family, doesn’t it?” 

            Relena waved a hand flippantly.  “I’m not listening to you, you’re trying to burst my bubble.” 

            He snorted again, amused.  “Your bubble?  I rather thought you were floating about on a cloud.” 

            “Clouds draw too much attention,” she adlibbed.  “Bubbles only shimmer when you look at them right.” 

            He brought a hand to his mouth to smother a snicker.  “Ah, yes, of course, my mistake.” 

            She began walking backwards, and her smile was absolutely dazzling.  “Everything is going marvelously, better than I had realized it _could_ ,” she explained happily.  “There isn’t anything to hold me back any longer, and the relief is simply wondrous.  I feel better than I have since I first reinstated Sanc; everything really _might_ change for the better this time, I’m going to make sure of it.  And it’s not a big ideal this time: it’s succinctly planned and _will_ work to at least some degree.”  Her face darkened.  “It’s not even vaguely feasible for it to end like before.” 

            The Special shook his head a little.  “I think you just burst your own bubble for no good reason, Princess.” 

            She frowned at that before sighing slightly and turning to walk the right way again.  “Bubbles are hardly important, Colonel Miller.” She smiled easily at him again, though this time it was more sedate.  “They might be pleasant, but hardly necessary.  It serves better to remember past mistakes and be sure they don’t happen again.” 

            “No arguing with that,” he agreed quietly.  She didn’t seem upset, just no longer bouncy, which was hardly appropriate for her position in any case.  Her firm basis in the reality of the world situation now was the key to her success once combined with her determination… and she had just proven to herself that she had not lost any of the drive and tenacity that had served her so well during the war.  The traits were merely more refined now, and perhaps she was choosing her battles more effectively.  “They are nice once in a while though, aren’t they?” 

            The young woman graced him with another of the smiles that seemed to be practically warming their world again.  “Yes, that they are.” 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            Duo did his best not to gape at the building.  It was hardly large, but…  “What’s the catch?” he asked breathlessly. 

            Melissa considered.  “Maybe the roof’s due to fall in?” 

            “I can fix that…” 

            His girlfriend snorted, elbowing him gently in the ribs.  “It was supposed to be a joke, you know.” 

            Ignoring her, he turned to the woman who had brought them to the property.  “Can we look around inside?”  It looked like there was a real garage too…  A little two story with the downstairs almost entirely garage, the upstairs more of a loft than anything, from what he could see through the broken window. 

            “Of course,” the realtor agreed easily, walking up to the door.  The lock was a piece of shit, but that was easily remedied… he might even be able to salvage something off one of the abandoned buildings around town, if someone had been smart enough to buy something decent that wasn’t so pretty that it attracted attention from the first or second wave of vultures… 

            “There’s a good piece of Plexiglas out at Sullivan’s that would work for that front window, if we got something to cut it with,” Melissa muttered, considering.  “The guy who used to live here ran a business a little like my family’s, but really only as a hobbyist – he couldn’t out-compete us, but he was retired and he liked it.  He moved out before the gundams came to Earth, I think to be closer to his kids.”  She gestured at the concrete floor and open piping and wiring that could be seen running along the walls.  “It’s not pretty, but it’s perfect for what we need, I think.” 

            The realtor seemed impressed with Melissa’s knowledge.  “Indeed… it only just went on the market for leasing; the previous owner died a few months ago, and his daughter inherited the deed.  The market is hardly good for sale, but she’s hoping to make some money on the property until the economy improves just the same.” 

            Duo nodded thoughtfully, considering the stairs before beginning to gingerly climb them.  “It seems like she’s in good enough shape,” he admitted.  The garage wasn’t all of the downstairs, but the indoors that remained was only separated by a half wall that had a suggestion of a kitchen about it.  If they got themselves a sturdy table, what was left of the entryway might work well as another workspace. 

            “We would put all the paperwork here, probably,” Melissa suggested.  “No reason to make customers traipse up the stairs to see whatever mess we make with smaller end work.” 

            He bit his lip and nodded in agreement; he had managed to forget about that part of what would be their business.  And it was nice too, seeing as there was an unbroken window there for good light.  The garage was already loaded with fluorescents…  The place was a damn diamond in the ruff.  “Only the immediate paperwork, though,” he argued after a moment.  “Records and tax stuff ought to be upstairs; we can always run to fetch it if we need to.”  He squatted slightly on the stairs to point.  “Some kind of table or desk there, a chair or two…  I think I can find some fold-up ones cheap.” 

            “Yeah.”  She bounced on her toes hard, smiling when the stairs under them didn’t creak.  “This place has really held up.” 

            He grinned back at her.  “No kidding…  The roof probably needs to be re-shingled, and we ought to paint the downstairs or something to make it a little more presentable, but this looks like a pretty sweet deal.”  He cautiously stepped out onto the second floor and rested all his weight on that foot; it creaked slightly, but he was relatively sure that it was too low of a sound for the women behind him to have caught, which meant it was fine.  The door at the end of the landing opened up into a simple loft like he had suspected, and there was even a large desk that had been left that looked like it was sturdy.  It had probably been used for their kind of work before, if Melissa’s story was true… 

            It was _perfect_. 

            He grinned broadly at Melissa again and she did a happy little bounce thing back at him before pulling out a tape measure out of her pocket to go see if the piece of plastic she had in mind was big enough for the window.  This was _much_ better than either of them had expected to find when they realized they were getting enough business and had enough money saved to open an official shop. 

            Smiling a little to himself, wondering at his luck lasting into this happier rendition of life he had settled into, he turned to discuss the details with the realtor. 

-

***

-

**July 30 th 197 – Sunday – Undetermined**

            Catherine Bloom hummed softly to herself as she unlocked the door to her trailer.  They were putting on a show that night, but she still had some time to kill before she had to get ready.  _Maybe I’ll work on that new suit…_   She had been playing with the idea of a new leotard, and working on it when things got slow. 

            Those thoughts flew out of her head when she saw who was waiting for her, calmly sipping at a glass of ice tea at her table.  He smiled at her, obviously enjoying her surprise.  “Hello, Cathy.” 

            She grinned broadly and sat down next to him, pulling him into a hug.  “Trowa!  I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to come back.” 

            He made a face.  “Sorry… nothing really worked out how I planned it.” 

-

***

-

**July 31 st 197 – Monday – Brussels, Belgium**

            “I’m annoyed with you,” Dorothy grumbled pointedly, tossing herself into the second desk chair with far more force than was necessary.  “Your brother’s an ass.” 

            “Why aren’t you annoyed with him, then?” Relena asked curiously, continuing to write, not looking up. 

            “Oh, I am.  It just overlaps to you too.” 

            The princess rolled her eyes.  “I might have annoyed him first, but he does have final say when it comes to you, and maybe he’s decided you were the bad influence that made me act out.” 

            “ _Jake_ is the one that got you to go all assertive on him,” Dorothy argued. 

            Relena rolled her eyes.  “Yes, Jake’s been somewhat literally shoving my own power in my face for the past month, but he’s also the closest thing to a friend that Milliardo has anymore.”  She doubted her brother realized how much his patronization of her aggravated her bodyguard. 

            And she certainly was no fool; she had noticed the careful reconstruction of her self esteem that the blonde man had been working on for at least the past five weeks… possibly since their first meeting, when she really thought about it. 

            She recognized what was happening, but she wasn’t sure if it was a crafted process or just the way he treated other people; and she could hardly argue with the effects.  She was still on something of a high from her confrontation with Milliardo the other day, and was actually unsure if she’d ever felt this… _pleased_ with herself in her whole life. 

            She’d always been the pampered daughter of an important politician, adored by her classmates and politely respected by everyone she met… but she had been aware that the foundation of that respect was merely an extension of what was extended toward her father.  Her time in Sanc had only been a continuation of that, and then she had been forced into her position as Queen of the Earth Sphere… though really, if she _had_ stayed there, she had already more than halfway made it fully her own specialty.  They had wanted a puppet queen but she had turned the tables and had been winning, before her brother entered his “temporary insanity” phase. 

            She was really beginning to think everyone had one of those. 

            “You like settling into one place more than the meandering about that we’re going to be doing anyway,” Relena noted to her friend.  “There’s more for you to do here, and less random people to annoy you.” 

            “Well, yes,” the other woman conceded.  “But I’m going to be alone again.” 

            Relena frowned.  “You have other friends that are staying,” she argued.  “Just spend more time with them.”  True, Dorothy _did_ spend a great deal of time with her anymore, but she hadn’t thought she was so attached that her leaving would elicit this strong of a response. 

            Her friend’s face just fell… and for the first time since they had met, Relena was absolutely positive that the emotion was sincere. 

            Standing up quickly, she reached out and pulled her into a hug.  “That look really doesn’t suit you,” she muttered. 

            “Nothing does,” she returned just as quietly, gripping the back of the princess’s jacket in fists.  “Nothing ever has, but you don’t care about that…” 

            Holding her tighter, Relena let her mind race.  As shocking of an idea as it was, Dorothy was… depressed.  _How long has she been like this?_   Her mask was so exhaustive; she had always known on some level that it _was_ a mask, but had long given up bothering to look behind it for more than the most current motives… and now it had slipped and she needed to say the right thing. 

            “I’m sorry he’s making you stay here,” she whispered.  “I tried fighting him on it.” 

            “I _hate_ it here,” the older girl returned shakily, hiding her face against the other’s shoulder.  “It stopped being fun after the first _week_.” 

            _…That **would** explain her work ethic._   “Why don’t you quit?” 

            “I swore…”  She didn’t seem to be crying, but her voice was getting harder to hear.  “And nowhere else is better anyway.” 

            “That’s a sad way to think,” Relena argued.  “If you want it to be better, it’s just something you have to find a new way about.”  She had been learning that lesson herself, the past year or so.  “If you don’t like something, tear it down and rebuild it so you _do_.”  She frowned.  “Aren’t you going to inherit soon?”  The Catalonia fortune wasn’t in her friend’s hands until she was eighteen instead of the current seventeen standard for some reason, but Dorothy was roughly six months older than she was.  “You could completely remake your life without any trouble at all, go up to the colonies.”  _This job is beyond stressful, if she doesn’t want it she certainly shouldn’t have to-_  

            Instead of calming her down, however, her last sentence made the other tighten her grip.  “I don’t want to give up what I _do_ like!” she cried.  Pulling back and looking down, she explained, “It’s all _fine_ with you, none of it matters then, I’m not alone if I don’t want to be anymore, but that would all go away if I left, and I _swore_ I would stay here!” 

            Relena frowned slightly, pulling Dorothy back into an easy hug again.  She had a few ideas, but none that she could put into action immediately, if at all… so for now, this was the best she could come up with.  She was going to be heading out in a few days, too soon to really try to change something about the other woman’s situation, so she’d have to wait it out this time… and maybe in the meantime they would work on finding a loophole in her agreement with Milliardo. 

            She could stay and _not_ have half the responsibilities she blatantly ignored… they just had to work out the details on _how_. 

            “You can call me, you know,” she reminded her.  “And you can message Jake.  Just because you won’t be in the same room for a while doesn’t mean we’re completely gone.” 

            Dorothy leaned back, focusing hard on her face for a moment… before smiling broadly in that devious way of hers.  “Right…”  She quickly ducked back and pulled her into one last hug, this one brief, before stepping away entirely and setting her hands on Relena’s shoulders.  “Of course I can.” 

            “You’re plotting something, aren’t you?” Relena asked, unable to stop her own lips from twitching into a smirk.  The mask was back in place, but this _was_ her personality all the same… the more somber end was just hidden away, and who _didn’t_ do that?  Everyone fell back on different facades for different occasions, didn’t they? 

            “I might,” Dorothy returned elusively, her eyes dancing.  “We should go out tomorrow, do a few things before you leave to save the world one square inch at a time.” 

            Relena raised a brow at that, but when her friend only continued to grin impishly, she just shook her head.  “Alright.”  There were definitely problems afoot… but she couldn’t remember the last time life had been without complications.  Well, she could, but, having nearly gone insane with boredom and depression before her return to Brussels, she preferred not to think of it.  In any case, despite the prevailing issues, which Dorothy had managed to just add herself to, everything was just… happy.  Content, somehow. 

            “I don’t suppose I get any hints about what we’re doing?”  

            That grin was just so sly that it was downright comical.  “Oh, I don’t know…” 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	25. The Meaning of a Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because really? Smiles are just as diverse as any other facial expression - if not more so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minimal editing again, mostly just minor grammar, solidifying dates that were a little murky or plain incorrect before, and adding a little more thought processing. Odin and Marle's plan has some alterations really just because of those initial changes in what information they have in Ch 21 and 22. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**-**

**_The Meaning of a Smile  
_ **

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**August 1 st 197 – Tuesday – Brussels, Belgium**

            Jake blinked, then covered his mouth to hide his smile… or quell the urge to just start laughing, he wasn’t sure.  It wasn’t that it looked bad, quite the contrary; their princess was possibly lovelier than before.  It was the new attitude that the hair suggested, and the devilish glint in both her and Dorothy’s eyes. 

            Zechs was going to have kittens. 

            “It’s not polite to stare,” Dorothy informed him primly, twirling at her own hair… which also seemed to have lost over a foot in length.  Not that that was saying much, seeing as it had been touching her knees this morning. 

            “I’m not staring,” he returned simply, moving his hand to hold the side of his head.  “I’m imagining the lecture I’m going to get.”  Relena had the grace to look mildly apologetic, but Dorothy outright cackled.  _I knew she was Satan incarnate…_  

            “He can hardly lose his temper over my cutting my hair,” Relena noted, though her eyes shone in a way that meant she knew _exactly_ what problems she was stirring up.  “I’ve had the same hairstyle since I was twelve, it was long past time for a change.” 

            “And if you’re doing it, you make sure to do it well,” Jake agreed, shaking his head slightly.  “I’m not arguing, it looks great… but you can count on him suddenly being more paranoid of any man that comes within a yard of you.” 

            The princess tilted her head slightly with an amused glint to her eyes as Dorothy practically fell over herself laughing again.  With a completely straight face, she told him, “I’m afraid I have no idea what it is you’re suggesting, Colonel Miller.” 

            Jake just chuckled and shook his head.  She knew exactly what he meant and was rather pleased with the effect – and he couldn’t blame her.  She had stripped away what was left of the image of a demure teenager and was somehow shining all the more brightly for it.  There was something… more powerful about her presence now; he wasn’t sure if it was due to the many layered hairstyle that ended just above her shoulders, suggesting some degree of sass, or because she had gained the courage to cut it all off in the first place. 

            “You look amazing,” he reassured her, gesturing back toward the base they were near the entrance of.  “My worry is more about convincing your brother not to leave me orders to skin alive any man who manages to brush past your shoulder.”  Dorothy had insisted just the two of them go somewhere earlier, and it hadn’t been too big of a deal with the area of town Catalonia had suggested, so he had agreed.  She had also agreed on what time she would be back by before he called out the cavalry, so he had met them as they exited the car. 

            “Tell him whatever you need to calm him down,” she suggested easily.  “You and your boys won’t let anyone who might take advantage within three yards in any case.” 

            “Well, no, I _will_ because you’ll be meeting with other politicians, but my general rule of thumb is to intimidate the shit out of anyone suspicious.”  He grinned.  “And since you’re practically keep me as a secretary as well, there’s never any reason to send me out if others dismiss their bodyguards as a sign of trust.” 

            Dorothy smacked him in the shoulder.  “Stop stealing my job.” 

            He laughed, falling back slightly so he came between them, throwing an arm over each woman’s shoulder.  “Let’s go face the music – this one should be pretty entertaining.” 

-

***

-

**L2**

            _“Catch your eyes, flash a smile,”_ Cathy sung under her breath as she stood on her toes, reaching for the serving bowl on the top shelf of the cabinet.  _“Maybe you could stay awhile…”_   Smiling a little at the irony to be had with the phrase, she shook her head.  Trowa had come back yesterday and had spent most of the evening telling her about his escapades of the last few months… and it was always hard to say how long he would stay.  Once, he hadn’t left for nearly three months, but there were also times that his visit would only last a few days.  It depended on a mixture of his mood and the situation of the world at large. 

            She could never figure out if he was busy or being lazy at any point. 

            Her brother had changed drastically from the young man she had once slapped for his uncanny willingness to simply throw his life away.  Part of it had to have been from that Heero character that had stayed with them for so long, because even after the amnesia set in and she got him back from the first part of the war, before any of his old friends had found him again, he had insisted on the same ideal of following your heart.  Considering his lack of anything vaguely resembling direction or tenacity, she had only been too happy to support the idea.  His interpretation of right and wrong was a little loose, but… well, that was how it was with all of those boys Trowa had sometimes brought home, during the war.  How else could somebody wind up as a gundam pilot? 

            Shaking her head again, she started to actually throw together the fruit salad for the communal dinner the performers were having that night.  She had hated the very idea of war for as long as she could remember, having lost any romance surrounding it when her parents and little brother died when she was six. 

            _Well, probably, anyhow…_   Trowa had a strange scar on his back that was almost identical to one little Triton had had, though she couldn’t remember her mother’s explanation behind the mark beyond the fact that there _had_ been a legitimate reason for it.  These days, he even looked an awful lot like the pictures she had of her father.  Some part of her wanted to ask him for a blood test, but in all reality it didn’t matter, and she was worried how he might react if it turned out she was wrong.  He was what she had made of family for herself, and she didn’t want him to possibly think she might reject him for not being blood-related. 

            “I can’t get over how much warmer it is here,” Trowa muttered as he came into the kitchen, toweling his hair.  “Going outside with wet hair actually sounds nice.” 

            She rolled her eyes.  “You’ve been spending too much time on Earth,” she decided.  “Stay there for too long and you’ll get depressed from lack of sunshine, especially with how much traveling by night you do; you don’t even get the little bit of sunlight they _have_ these days.”  He grinned slightly at that, settling down in the little dining booth in the corner and leaning away from her to look out the window.  All he was wearing was jeans… which looked to be high watered.  _Has he grown **again**?_ she wondered, dismayed. 

            “It’s beautiful here,” he muttered after a moment. 

            “It’s carefully cultivated to be beautiful,” she reminded him as she walked over toward him, resting her hands on the table and leaning forward to look out into the park the circus was set up in.  “It’s wonderful, really… but I don’t know, it always feels so fake up here in the colonies.” 

            “It’s the sky that makes it that way,” he half explained.  “The plants are all real, and the lamps are made so they have all the right rays, everyone gets the right vitamins; but it’s not cost efficient to make the colonies big enough so you can’t see the curve of the gravitational wheel.”  Resting his head on hand fist and looking out with her, he added, “I read somewhere that they tried to put up constellations during the night cycle in a few places, but the fact that they didn’t move, or match from one side to the other unnerved people more than it helped, so they stopped trying.” 

            _Huh, you learn something new every day._   She hummed in acknowledgement before shaking her head, turning back to the kitchen.  “I never much minded it before,” she told him.  “But we usually didn’t stay in the colonies for too long either; now it’s pretty rare that we go down to Earth.  It makes my skin crawl sometimes, the way everything seems planed; they do a good job of hiding it, but I can’t help but feel I’m shut in a box.” 

            His smile turned rueful.  “Earth is… wild, chaotic.  There’s something exhilarating about it, but this… I prefer the colonies.  Ports of entry can be closely watched; there’s a limited number of ways in and out.  There’s something comforting, about that.” 

            “I would think it would be more of a problem than a security blanket for someone who likes to slip between the lines so much,” she noted, half teasing. 

            Her brother shrugged.  “I learned every way around those security measures before I could read… most people have a harder time, though.” 

            Catherine rolled her eyes.  “You have to go and remind me that you’re some hardcore soldier boy, huh?” 

            His chuckle was self-deprecating… and it _was_ a chuckle, not the bewildered stare from when they had first begun talking regularly.  “It’s so strange sometimes, Cathy…  I know how to _do_ all of it, but I still can only remember tiny bits and pieces.  Staring at the soup this blonde girl was cooking, trying to decide if it was done… there’s something important about her, but I can’t even remember her name.  I know Quatre can play violin, but I don’t remember him ever telling me that.  I remember hitting Duo so I could slip him a projector without the other guards noticing, but I can’t remember why it was so important that he get it.  I was hiding, and they’d been arrested by the group I was with…  OZ.”  He frowned.  “I was half curious if Colonel Une was _flirting_ with me… but I didn’t care.” 

            She shrugged, though she was a little amused.  “The lady Colonel had a thing for ya, huh?” 

            He grimaced.  “If she did, I’m glad she never acted on it.” 

            Cathy just shook her head again, standing up straight.  “You remember more when you talk about it, so if you want to, I’m game, but I thought you said you didn’t want to bother anymore?” 

            He closed his eyes.  “It’s just frustrating.”  Even if he had started talking more, smiling and laughing and teasing, his mannerisms were still quiet, subtle, fluid.  _I think I might die of shock if he ever threw up his hands in frustration like a normal person,_ she mused.  “I gave up looking back for a way forward, but it’s just…  I _know_ I know more than I think I do.  What if there’s something important that I can use from back then?” 

            She sighed.  “Trowa, to be perfectly honest, I don’t think much from back then would help you now.  At least, nothing you don’t still have; like you said, you still remember how to do everything.  Quite frankly, any information would probably be outdated… and you were a very different person.  There were times where you knew important things but went and ignored them anyhow for some reason, like you just didn’t care.  You were kinda… vacant, more often than not.  Maybe it’s from how you grew up, or something, I don’t know… but you’ve said before that you don’t like what you remember of yourself back then, so maybe you’re better off never really getting the whole picture back.” 

            He turned back to her and shrugged a little, his expression tired.  “I know… I just still think about it sometimes.”  Looking around her to the counter he asked, “What were you doing?” 

-

***

-

**August 2 nd 197 – Wednesday – Jerusalem, Israel**

            Opening the fridge and easily finding breakfast makings, Odin decided that this was probably a better idea than he had at first been willing to admit. 

            Marlé had been right about his leg… it still ached, days later, but he didn’t need the brace or cane today.  Unfortunately, they hadn’t had any luck on finding her mother during the downtime either, largely because they had realized just how wide their search radius really was.  As bright as Marlé was, she was only _mostly_ certain her mother was an emergency medicine doctor, and not in one of the trauma branches.  With nothing more than physical characteristics and a title of ‘doctor’ across what apparently boiled down to four possible fields of medicine, he had maybe underestimated the magnitude of the search they were embarking on. 

            But for this part, at least, it didn’t matter where they worked from, so as soon as he’d been able to walk without the brace again, they’d started the long train ride back to Israel.  Retracing his steps had seemed… right. 

            Pulling out the eggs, sausage, and turkey bacon, he went looking in the pantry for the pancake batter that he remembered being there… and grinned when he spotted a waffle iron.  On some level, he _wanted_ to put the eggs in the thing like he remembered his father doing… but there really wasn’t much point when there was such a an expansive griddle at his disposal. 

            The Sronas were fond of breakfast food – something about ‘all things fried’ that was apparently funny, but he hadn’t quite understood. 

            Before long, he had a large breakfast coming along relatively nicely; he’d burned the sausage a little, but it wasn’t too bad.  It had just occurred to him that there had usually been toast too when he heard footfalls in the next room, and the kitchen door began to creak open.  Turning around, he smiled at the man’s suspicious look.  “Good morning, Doctor.” 

            Samuel Srona stared at him with narrowed eyes for a few moments longer before his eyebrows shot up.  “Yukio?” 

            He grinned at the name he had assumed during his previous stay – he’d actually forgotten it.  “Odin, now,” he said by way of agreement.  “I thought I’d come back for a visit.” 

            Sam grinned and held up one finger in a “wait” sort of gesture before ducking back out of the kitchen – probably to fetch Moira.  Soon enough his thoughts were confirmed from the sounds of the woman’s sleepy grumbling and Samuel’s whispers, and he turned to face the door fully as it opened.  He couldn’t help but smile at her wide eyes, but simply noted, “I made breakfast.”  His eyes twitched back to the griddle.  “Making.” 

            “Oh!  I can see that!” she cried as she rushed over to him, pulling him into the hug that he had been expecting, but was still a _little_ unsure of how he was supposed to respond to.  He suspected he did better than the last time, however.  “Oh, this is a lovely surprise!  I was hoping you might come back, but I didn’t think it would be so soon!” 

            He grimaced as he pulled away, turning back to the stove.  “It wasn’t Wufei after all…  I finally caught up to him the other night.  It seemed like a good idea as any to come back.”  If he and his ward were too much of a risk or burden, however, they could leave after breakfast. 

            “Of course it was a good idea!” she scoffed as if she could read his thoughts.  “Oh, and you made breakfast too!  What are you going by now, with that blonde hair of yours?” 

            “Odin Lowe,” he returned easily… happily, he realized.  Moira was just pleasant to… bask in.  Like the sun.  “The little girl on the couch is Marlé Lowe.” 

            “Oh really now?” 

            He shrugged.  “I found her, and she needed somebody, so here we are.  She didn’t sleep well on the bus last night, though, so she’s tired.” 

            “Ah, well, look at you!  You look so good, and the blonde really suits you too, and you’re _smiling_!” 

            He couldn’t help but smile wider at that.  “It’s gotten easier,” he admitted. 

            “And your leg?” Samuel asked clinically from the doorway. 

            Somehow, his smile stretched _wider_.  Samuel had been the one to warn him that he would likely never run again.  “I was sprinting the other day.” 

            The couple exclaimed over that, wanting more details… and despite being tired, and his leg still hurting like mad, and any of his doubts… 

            He just felt _good_. 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium**

            Milliardo looked like he had bitten into something sour as he pulled her into a hug.  “Be safe,” he muttered softly. 

            “Of course I will,” she scoffed, hugging him tightly.  However wrong about however many things… he _was_ her brother.  “What else would I be?” 

            “Willing to literally jump between two dueling, specialized mobile suits?” he returned dryly. 

            She flushed at that; he _had_ a point.  “That was a long time ago,” she muttered in her defense.  “I have more common sense, now.” 

            “And I’ll make sure she keeps it,” Jake added, smirking. 

            Milliardo looked about to make a sharp retort for a moment, but apparently bit his tongue.  Instead, after glowering a moment, he ordered, “Keep her safe, Miller.” 

            Her bodyguard reached out and clasped her brother’s hand hard, his smile somehow serious.  “You know I will.” 

            He nodded a little, seemingly much more relaxed… which made Relena curious.  _Why **does** he trust Jake so much that that’s all the reassurance he needs?_   There was more to it than simple camaraderie, which was all Jake claimed laid between them… though it was still clearly not an outright friendship.  Her brother didn’t keep close friends.  Jake was likely the closest thing he had to one, but it more laid in the fact that Milliardo had relatively severe trust issues combined with… not _cowardice_ , but something vaguely related to it that was somehow deeply intermingled with his sense of nobility. 

            But he completely trusted Jacob Miller with her safety, without a second thought.  Obviously, he had once entrusted Noin with exactly that, with the same degree of implied trust… but she had never learned his logic behind that faith either.  _Maybe camaraderie **does** go that far in his mind?_   But she couldn’t help the nagging feeling that there was more to it than that.  Noin had been as hopelessly in love with Milliardo as she had once thought herself to be with Heero, and he had known, had possibly returned, those feelings.  That could easily explain the trust there, because Noin would no sooner have done something to hurt him than she would have cut off both her legs. 

            _What’s the extra connection between him and Jake?_  

            “Stop that before you make _my_ head hurt.” 

            She turned and gave Dorothy a very level look before pulling her into a hug.  “Why does he trust Jake so much?” she asked quietly, so the two men couldn’t overhear.  “We’re missing something.” 

            “I know, but the best I can come up with is friendly sodomy,” her friend returned in a completely neutral voice.  Relena choked on that, hard, actually stumbling so that Dorothy half caught her, pulling her tight so it just looked like a tearful goodbye.  Not that it really mattered, considering the fact that they had left the press behind for a private farewell a few minutes ago, but still, she was grateful for it.  Sighing dramatically, Dorothy continued with, “Yeah, that’s about how believable I find it too, but still, it was worth a thought.” 

            “A _fleeting_ thought,” the princess grumbled, straightening herself and pulling away to give her an incredulous look. 

            “I haven’t come up with anything worthwhile, though,” the woman practically pouted. 

            “Then say you don’t know?!” she hissed back, feeling bewildered. 

            Dorothy really _did_ pout then.  “But that would be boring!” 

            “What?” 

            Relena turned, utterly mortified, back to her brother’s mildly curious expression before Jake put a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head.  “Trust me, if she’s _that_ red, the best policy is not asking.” 

            Relief flooded through her as the men turned back to their conversation, and she looked up when Dorothy rested a hand on her shoulder… only to catch the mock coy look the other was offering her, flicking her eyes back over at the similar gesture from the bodyguard.  Her heartbeat thundering loud in her ears, face surely brighter than before, Relena did the mature thing: 

            She glared. 

-

***

-

**Jerusalem, Israel**

            Having woken up for breakfast, eaten, and curled back up on the couch, Marlé was unsure of what to make of the doorbell ringing.  Odin didn’t seem too worried about it, though, so she supposed there was no reason for her to fuss. 

            “Gramma!” a little girl squealed once Moira opened the door. 

            “Leah!” their hostess returned with equal enthusiasm. 

            “Hey, Mom,” a woman’s voice greeted lazily.  “We’ve got an hour to kill before gymnastics class, so I thought we’d swing by.” 

            “Well, this is certainly a day for surprises,” Moira happily agreed, and Marlé could hear the door shutting.  Turning back to Odin, he seemed thoughtful for a moment before standing and gesturing that they move into the kitchen. 

            Moira continued on happily.  “Remember when I told you last spring you’d acquired another brother?” 

            “That patient of Dad’s, right?” 

            Odin blinked and shrugged at Marlé, sitting back down… which she took as her cue to retake her place on the couch.  _He **did** say that these people were the closest thing he had to family._   She had thought they took it a little less seriously than him, though.  _Apparently not._  

            “Yes, well-” 

            Any further eavesdropping was interrupted when a little girl with dark eyes and wavy brown hair done up in pigtails happily announced, “I’m Leah.  What’s your name?” 

            Marlé blinked; she had little to no experience with little kids… this one had to be under five.  “Marlé.” 

            “Hi Marlé!” she greeted cheerfully… before bolting up the stairs. 

            “Don’t make a mess!” called a twenty-something-year-old woman as she and Moira entered the living room.  “We have to leave in forty minutes!” 

            “I won’t!” 

            The girl’s mother shook her head slightly, amused, before focusing on Odin.  “So you’re the boy my mother’s determined to keep?” 

            “Hn.  I suppose.”  This was delivered with mildly narrowed eyes. 

            Marlé fought the urge to roll her eyes; trust Odin to find the most evasive affirmative answer in existence.  Moira seemed to feel the same, as she _did_ roll her eyes and noted to her daughter, “He’s not exactly a social butterfly, Annie, don’t take it to heart.” 

            _Odin… **butterfly** …_  The imagery set Marlé giggling.  Sure, the guy smiled, but so far as she had seen, only for her and this Moira woman… and not exactly frequently.  _Well, no, he does it when he’s acting too… but he’s so **not** like him then, it doesn’t count_ , she decided.  Moira tossed her a wink as her daughter, Annie, raised a brow, first at her, then at Odin when he sighed. 

            She seemed to get past her skepticism, or whatever it was, quickly.  Striding across the room, she held out a hand to Odin.  “Anne Moore; the hyperactive little thing with perfect curls that just vacated the premises is Leah.  I’m Sam and Moira’s youngest – for all that my brothers have yet to produce any children so Mom and Dad will quit spoiling mine rotten.” 

            Her mother scoffed.  “Nonsense; we’ll just spoil all of them.”  Gesturing at Marlé, she added, “And this is the little sister he’s adopted, though they’re still searching for her mother.” 

            Anne turned and offered her the same hand.  “Annie.” 

            Marie grinned; she liked how frank the woman was.  It reminded her rather a great deal of her mother.  “Marlé.” 

-

***

-

**August 3 rd 197 – Thursday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “How did you talk me into this again?” 

            “You were bored and desperate to get out of the house,” Melissa reminded her friend cheerfully.  “Kay warned you that it would be boring, but you packed up the baby anyway.” 

            Karina rolled her eyes.  “Okay, fine… but why are we painting the _floor_?” 

            Melissa clicked her tongue, dipping her roller back in the paint.  “It’s presentation,” she explained shortly.  She and Duo had finished painting the garage walls a grey similar to the concrete yesterday, covering the old marks and keeping a warehouse sort of feel that wouldn’t fade out the professional attitude of the room once it got dirty.  Now she and Rina were doing the floor a deep green while her boyfriend painted their little office space in the next room.  It was a dark enough color that it might look _good_ with the inevitable dark grease and oil stains, but brought a new sort of life and friendliness to the garage.  Seeing as they wanted to keep the garage open as much as they could while in business, the effort for presentation would be worth it. 

            Karina, however, was ever the pretty princess.  “My back hurts… how many coats of this are we putting down again?” 

            “We can’t put down another coat until _this one_ dries,” she returned exasperatedly.  _Seriously, that’s just common sense._   “Go play with your daughter if it’s that annoying.” 

            The little blonde just huffed out a sigh as she continued to doggedly paint.  Melissa rolled her eyes, but kept her peace; if they weren’t such cheap-asses, they would have some bigger rollers and this would take considerably less time, but between her and Duo, they could penny-pinch enough to put any scrooge to shame.  The time spent easily made up for supplies that couldn’t be done without.  Besides, the Father had said Amos was coming over once he was out of school, and Nolan had agreed to help too.  A few of the younger Devils boys had also offered to help if their homework was light. 

            They had only just gotten possession yesterday, and they ought to be able to officially work out of here once the bottom floor was finished.  They already had a number of accordion file folders and a single file cabinet for paperwork, and Melissa was mostly done with drafting different service forms.  Kay had been muttering about wanting to cut that Plexiglas today, and she figured it was better to let him do it than try herself, considering his history, and- 

            “Hey, are you two almost done in here?” 

            “Almost,” Melissa confirmed, looking up as he leaned into the garage.  Those bright blue eyes of his were happy, content… sometimes she swore she could stare into them forever, if he let her.  “What’s up?” 

            Amusement lit his face up even more as he pointedly didn’t break her gaze; he knew what had caught her attention and, as usual, got a kick out of it.  “I want to cut out our new window before I crash for a few hours…  Renee’s due to wake up soon, isn’t she?” 

            Rina frowned, looking up at the clock that Melissa had hung shortly after they arrived.  “Yeah, she’ll be hungry in twenty minutes or so.” 

            Kay nodded a little, biting one lip.  “You should take her home, then…  I want to get it done before I need to sleep, and the paint fumes down here would be really bad for her.” 

            Their friend frowned slightly but nodded just the same, setting her roller down in the tray.  “Just give me a minute.” 

            Watching her go out through the garage to double back through the front door, Melissa shook her head… and Chaos jumped from the doorway to the bit of paint-free floor.  Rolling her eyes slightly, she quietly asked, “You heard how irritated she was?”  Especially after learning his past, she knew better than to think he had missed eavesdropping on something. 

            “She doesn’t see the point, but she’s so bored out of her mind she’ll do it anyway,” her boyfriend agreed.  “She’s been cooped up for too long, but Renee’s the only consistent thing she has to spend energy on anymore.”  Frowning, he added, “She needs to get herself a job before the cabin fever gets much worse.” 

            “Easier said than done,” Melissa reminded him. 

            “Not as hard as it used to be either, now with the Militia work,” he argued.  “And did you have anyone in mind already, for recommending when you leave the tavern?” 

            Blinking, she admitted, “I actually hadn’t thought about that beyond the fact that I need to give my two weeks’ notice.”  Between opening up an official shop and working Militia patrols, she was making enough to leave her waitress job, and more effort on her part would make the shop thrive more.  They’d decided that it would be smart for Kay to keep his night labor job for as long as he could handle it, but that worked much like her patrols did.  Either way, they were still bringing in more money than before. 

            And with her sweet face and perfect mannerisms, Rina would make a damn fine waitress.  Her boss knew how much more patronage a pretty girl waiting or bussing tables could bring him, and as he knew her work was good, he might trust the idea of someone she recommended.  And it wasn’t like childcare was a worry; there was always _someone_ around who could take care of Renee, so long as they got Rina a breast pump so she didn’t have to be _present_ for the baby to get fed. 

            There was the sound of someone coming walking around upstairs and Duo bent his head slightly to give her a chaste peck on the lips.  “Walk her back home, or to the church?” 

            “Sure.”  It was a given, after what had happened last month, that Rina shouldn’t go anywhere alone anymore – and it was probably a show of how badly the incident with the Slingers had scared her that she didn’t argue the point.  Well, she hadn’t yet, anyhow; the dispute would come eventually, but for now, everyone felt safer with the precaution even if it was pointless, considering how she and Kay had more or less wiped the Slingers from existence. 

            Reaching up, she laced her fingers together behind his neck and rested her weight against him, breathing in his soft scent.  The paint half ruined it, but it was still there enough to make her want to relax completely, washing away her worries… 

            And somehow, he was hers.  He knew about her history in the red light district, and he didn’t _care_ , didn’t think her less for it or expect more from her physically than the occasional make-out session and heavy petting they had done before he found out.  He didn’t treat her any differently than before, and… he seemed as romantically interested in her as she was in him.  They had laid bare their secrets for each other… and this funny, righteous, powerful, _gorgeous_ guy still wanted her. 

            He had said he used to pilot a gundam as if he thought she would leave him after knowing, which was _ridiculous_.  The gundam pilots were the only reason Europe wasn’t blasted off the map just like America.  They were _heroes_. 

            Now, he was the Devils’ hero.  _Her_ hero.  Well, Karina’s, really, in terms of heroship, but he wanted to be _her_ guy, and that was more than enough to make her giddy.  Before she’d tried to make a move she had had to make sure that he really _had_ lost interest in the ex-soldier girl – because Hilde really _was_ still just a girl somehow, despite the violence – before dropping hints that she was interested… and it had taken him _so long_ to catch on. 

            “What’re you thinking about?” he asked in a whisper, his arms loosely wrapped around her.  That gentle but happy voice loaded with a hint of amusement and more than a little affection combined with his soft breath by her ear sent a shiver down her back.  He let out a deep breath… and she realized he was smelling her hair.  He did that a lot, really…  Whenever she was near him, it seemed like he was always smelling or playing with it. 

            _Is this love?_   Whatever it was, love or not, she liked it, and intended to see it through to the end, wherever that end was.  “How lucky I am,” she answered, smiling into his chest. 

            He went completely still for a moment… then relaxed more than before, pulling her closer at the same time.  “I…  I can share the sentiment.”  He shook his head slightly.  “I’m not sure why _you_ would think it… but I never really thought anything good would ever happen to me before.” 

            She snorted.  “That’s just stupid.  Good stuff happens all the time, we just don’t look at it as much as we should.”  Shaking her head a little, she added, “Life is about happiness, right?  Yours or the people you care about?  If you focus on that… you can handle anything without breaking, because it’s that important.” 

            “Yeah…”  He was running one hand up and down her back now.  “I don’t know, you just…”  He paused to lick his lips.  “So long as you’re okay, it’s like…”  He cut himself off, growling.  “I feel like I’m in some sort of low-budget, tacky vid, I’m _not_ saying it like that…” 

            Melissa giggled into his chest, feeling vaguely light-headed, almost as if she was about to start floating.  This really _was_ akin to some cheap romance movie, only considerably more awkward… yet incredibly awesome at the same time.  “Need to find a pretty way to say it, then?” she teased. 

            Letting her go somewhat, he rubbed at his face with one hand.  “I’ll figure it out…” 

            She couldn’t help but giggle again at that.  He was odd, sometimes, but his quirks were more cute than anything.  “I’m going to walk Sin home, then.” 

            “Alright…” 

            “…That means you need to let go of me.” 

            “Right…” 

-

***

-

**Undetermined**

            “They all…”  Relena frowned, biting her lip.  It was the first day of her tour, and she had known her work was cut out for her, but…  “No one’s smiling,” she muttered quietly to her bodyguard. 

            Jake rested a hand on her shoulder.  “You need energy to smile, Princess… and for that, you need hope.”  He grinned a bit when she looked back at him.  “That’s what you’re here to give, huh?” 

            _Mm._   It wasn’t exactly how she would put it, but his reasoning was close enough.  She was bringing help… but then, what was hope, but the promise of coming relief?  This was _that_ important. 

            “Don’t think too hard on it,” he suggested.  “You’ll get nervous.” 

            She gave him a look; she had _never_ had any issues with stage fright.  The way he was smirking, however, suggested he knew and was teasing her… so she settled for smacking his arm, which made him chuckle.  “You’re impossible,” she decided, looking to her watch.  She still had twenty minutes before her initial speech; she had woken up far too early this morning in anticipation, and seeing as she couldn’t start surveying until the people were _ready_ for her, they were waiting in the backstage area of the outdoor platform, people watching and drinking hot tea. 

            “In their defense, it’s also damn early,” Jake noted.  “They could just be hating the fact that they’re already out of bed.” 

            “Mmm,” she returned noncommittally, focusing on her drink.  Waiting around for everyone else to get their crap together was getting old really fast.  “Maybe we should have spent our extra time watching tv or something,” she grumbled. 

            Jake snickered.  “I’ll try to make that point if you insist on waking up this early again.” 

            “You guys are friggin’ nuts,” Mitchell declared, blowing on his hands as he walked up to them.  “Why couldn’t we wait _inside_?” 

            Jake snorted in amusement.  “We were just wondering the same thing.  What’re you doing out here, though?  Your shift doesn’t start until evening, you should get some more sleep.” 

            “Curiosity killed the cat,” the other ex-Special muttered darkly.  “I wanted to see what insanity you two were already up to.” 

            “Sheer nerves,” Relena retorted, handing her mug to Mitchell.  “That should warm you up some.” 

            “I really shouldn’t have caffeine before bed…” he muttered dubiously. 

            “It’s chamomile,” she dismissed.  “Like I said, nerves; I don’t need any caffeine right now either.” 

            He blinked at the cup, then back at her hesitantly.  “You serious?”  At her nod, he made a thankful sort of noise… and started chugging. 

            “It’s… a little hot for that,” Relena protested, waiting for an exclamation that wasn’t coming. 

            “He does that,” Jake noted, rolling his eyes. 

            Mitchell, having finished, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  “You do too,” he reminded. 

            “It’s not _that_ cold,” the other protested. 

            Mitchell snorted.  “So just because it’s not Siberia, you’re denying yourself some extra warmth?” 

            “I _can_ do it, but ability doesn’t translate to liking,” Jake retorted.  “There’s this thing about how it _burns_.” 

            “Pussy,” his friend returned happily.  “I feel a whole world better.”  Raising the mug, he asked, “Miss Peacecraft, do you want me to go get you another one of these?” 

            Jake snatched it out of his hand.  “I’ll do it.” 

            “You’re just looking for an excuse to go back inside,” Mitchell didn’t quite whine, staying where he was as the other walked off.  Cupping his hands around his mouth, he called, “My way works better!”  Relena covered her mouth to smother a giggle as she watched Jake flip off his friend without turning around. 

            “I can never get over how close you two are,” she said after a moment.  “That you can get away with insulting each other like that.” 

            The now jovial man shrugged easily.  “We’ve been friends since I was…”  He looked up, obviously thinking.  “It was before Noin joined up, and Zechs came a while after her, so I guess I was sixteen?  Jake would have been nine.” 

            She blinked, something odd creeping up her spine.  “Jake joined when he was _nine_?”  The absolute earliest she had ever heard of was ten, and even that was uncommon.  Then…  “And if you were sixteen, what would you have had to do with a nine-year-old?” 

            David Mitchell snorted.  “That nine-year-old could outshoot me _and_ kick my ass without breaking a sweat on his first day.  Treize took to him really fast; the Khushrenadas were the ones that pulled the strings to get the asshole in, so he took him under wing, kind of thing…  The brat was already trained enough to be a field operative before he joined OZ, so there wasn’t any point in sticking him with his age group.  Treize and I were close, back then… we kinda started going our separate ways once he got so good with mobile suits that he started teaching, since I went more into groundwork…”  He shook his head a little.  “Jake bounced around between everybody, really; never had a hard time making friends despite his age.  Well,” he rolled his eyes, “with the exception of Zechs, anyhow.” 

            She frowned.  That was bizarre… but so long as she was asking questions, she might as well see what she could get.  “Really?  They seem so close now, though.” 

            “Well, _now_ maybe, but that’s after years of Noin knocking their heads together until they played nice.  That and, well…”  He grimaced.  “Jake… changed a lot after his family died.  He bolted for almost a year – Lu and I had to forge paperwork for it so he wouldn’t get called out for desertion, made it look like legitimate leave, before Treize sent me out to tail him.  He calmed down eventually and we came back home… and we were close enough before that, but after?”  He shrugged a little.  “I guess he’s been my best friend since.  Ten months on the road can really change people, I guess.” 

            Sighing, he added, “Then once we were back, Noin, Zechs, and Treize were completely wrapped up with MS while Jake and I were mediocre at best, so we stuck together for more groundwork stuff.  Treize still liked to keep Jake as his relay when the timing worked for it, so he didn’t completely lose touch, but I hadn’t seen Zechs for years, before the new Regime started up.  I’m honestly not convinced he actually remembers me; I think Jake just told him he’s supposed to, so he’s pretending.” 

            “Years?” she asked, confused.  _Surely that’s a little long, if they were peers?_  

            “Ah… yeah,” he admitted, looking away.  “I packed out, October 195.  Too much politics, too much ethics, Treize had already thrown in the towel, and… just _no_ , you know?”  He chuckled a little weakly.  “Stayed in Sanc for a while, to be honest…  Jake had joined White Fang, but knowing him, it was probably more curiosity than belief that their idea to end the fighting would work.  He doesn’t like unknowns; prefers to scope everything out for a while before committing and making his move.”  Smiling, he added, “But once he commits, he’s in, hook, line, and sinker.” 

            She smiled back, and honestly felt it… Jake really _did_ seem to go all the way when he committed.  What else he had said, though…  “You never mentioned you lived in Sanc.” 

            He shrugged a little.  “My family was from there originally, but then, well…”  Shrugging again, he finished lamely with, “Well, you know.  I was twelve when it fell the first time, so it was nice to go back and see it all again.” 

            Relena nodded a little herself.  “I don’t have any memories from before the kingdom fell,” she admitted. 

            “Well, that makes sense; you were only a toddler, if I remember right.” 

            “Yeah…” 

            They stood in silence for a while, Relena, at least, thinking about everything she had just learned.  It was reassuring to know that the trust between Jake and her brother wasn’t some strangely automatic thing, not that she had thought it was before.  The fact that he had been so well trained at so young an age was unnerving, but it also explained Milliardo’s firm belief that Jacob was a perfect bodyguard.  She didn’t understand why he had apparently “bolted” after his family died, but there was something about the way Mitchell said that part that made it clear he wouldn’t be more specific on the information… which meant it was important, somehow, and David didn’t see it as any of her business. 

            _…Who would train a **child** to the point that he could be a field operative by nine?_  

            “Alright, you two are too quiet, what’s going on?” Jake joked as he came back to them with three fresh cups of tea in hand. 

            “It’s way too early to be _awake_ , let alone chatty,” Mitchell returned darkly, holding out a hand for his mug.  “But if I’m up already, I might as well stand with you and let the cameras flash off _both_ of our brass.  The more obvious her support, the better this deal runs, right?” 

            “Eh, good enough excuse for me,” Jake agreed, handing Relena her cup before setting his on the ground and reaching into his coat to pull out a rather large brown paper bag.  “Muffins?” 

            “Hell yeah!” Mitchell exclaimed, snatching the bag and opening it up.  He sniffed at them, then made a happy sort of noise before offering the bag to Relena so she had first pick. 

            “Thank-you.”  The first one she pulled up was blueberry… and that seemed lovely. 

            “I’d have sworn you used to be shy,” Jake commented mildly, taking the muffin Mitchell handed him and biting into it. 

            “Mm.”  His friend swallowed some more of his tea after his hasty bite of muffin.  “I’m sorry.  You didn’t have any bets set on that, did you?” 

            Jake snorted, taking a sip of his own drink.  “You’re way too happy for this early in the morning.  Even the _sun_ is still half-assing it.” 

            “You’re just annoyed,” Mitchell returned, practically _bouncing_.  Eyes sparkling with amusement, he told Relena, “Don’t mind him, he’s special when he’s running low on sleep.” 

            “I’d noticed, actually,” she returned, smiling around her cup.  Not that he’d been acting sleep-deprived earlier… but it might just be catching up now. 

            “I’m not tired, I’m just disgusted by your _dripping_ on everyone,” the blonde man replied, eyes narrowed. 

            Mitchell just laughed delightedly.  “If you hadn’t gone to the work of getting it for me, I’d douse my drink over you.” 

            “Good thing, Dave…  I’d be irritated enough to maim if you got that rambunctious.” 

            Relena snickered.  “You’re almost as bad as Dorothy, David.” 

            She had meant the comment to just add to the banter, but Mitchell went rather pale, and Jake started laughing in that naughty little boy way of his.  The other bodyguard quickly flushed and moved to hit Jake, only to have him dodge… and soon they were playing an odd sort of game of keep away, made considerably difficult by the fact that they were trying not to spill their drinks. 

            _…I’m not really sure I want to know._  

-

***

-

**Jerusalem, Israel**

            “Why don’t all of them have pictures?” Marie didn’t quite whine.  “This is going to take forever.” 

            Odin sighed, rubbing at his eyebrow.  “You sort through all the files with pictures, and I’ll catalogue the rest by location.  If we can’t get a picture, we’ll add the name to the list to check in person.”  _And then we’ll just hope that she isn’t in the registry with a picture of another woman._  

            At least female doctors in the age range they were looking at were a minority.  But it was also a fact that the human population was currently around nine billion, with women outnumbering men by nearly five to one. 

            The wars of the past few decades of constant fighting and the decimation of the Americas had left deep marks. 

            “The worst case scenario,” he muttered after a moment of calculating his estimates, “is a year.”  Watching her slump, he pointed out, “ _Worst case_ , Marlé.  Statistically, we’ll likely be done before Christmas.” 

            “The worst case scenario,” he muttered after a moment, seeing his ‘sister’s’ depressed look, “is that we find her right before Christmas.” 

            She scrunched up her nose, then sighed and nodded, shoulders straightening again. 

            He smiled.  “The sooner you can get through those photos, the better.”  Once he had all the names and locations, he could plot a route to interview them. 

            “Ten minute warning!” Moira’s voice called up the stairs. 

            “Thanks!” Marlé called back cheerfully. 

            They would probably head out in a week or so.  He had a ways to go through in his map, but so far it looked as though the majority of the areas where these women lived had a limited Regime presence, and were therefore unlikely to be crawling with troopers who might know their faces.  Losing all but the edge of that risk would be significantly soothing.  Additionally, they had no precise timetable to trace on this, so he could play it by ear instead of running them both ragged hunting for leads. 

            The only immediate order of business to take care of would be getting Marlé some decent identification papers; the set he’d picked up in Warsaw had worked so far, but the quality was lacking. 

            This time, the chase would be far more relaxed… and despite how monotonous that seemed on some level, the idea also appealed. 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts, anyone? Anything?


	26. Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Company comes in all shapes and sizes, from fantastic to entirely unwelcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minimal changes here, just bits of grammar and word choice.

**-**

**_Company _ **

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**August 16 th 197 – Wednesday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “Kay!” 

            Chaos laughed as he caught his girlfriend, who was outright squeaking with happiness.  “You didn’t miss me _that_ much?” he asked incredulously. 

            “Nope!” she returned, eyes dancing mischievously. 

            He made as if to pout at her, even as he hoisted her slightly – eliciting another squeak – so that instead of her resting her weight on him, he was holding her off the ground, his forearms forming up a seat for her.  “Not even a little?” 

            She laughed, throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.  “Maybe a little,” she offered, nuzzling at his neck slightly, sending thrills down his back.  She noticed this, sniggering slightly as she pulled back to look him in the face.  “Otherwise, though…”  Her eyes glinted, and she tilted her head in that way of hers.  “My Daddy says he can come visit.” 

            “Ah.”  Melissa hardly looked to her father for care anymore, not after she had had to go to extreme measures to keep both her and her little brother fed, but she was also proud of him and delighted by his presence as only a daddy’s girl could be.  Nolan was younger, but not half as attached; Luc had said something about how it was because Melissa had always looked after him like the mother he could hardly remember.  From the home life Melissa would talk about growing up in, it seemed like she had taken care of her father to some degree as well… but when it came down to it, she adored the man and could happily talk about him for hours. 

            That was probably one of the reasons he didn’t feel all that daunted by the idea of meeting his girlfriend’s father.  He figured the other had something to do with facing down entire armies by himself, but he’d been told that logic wasn’t supposed to count for this sort of meeting. 

            “He hasn’t bought a ticket yet,” she went on to explain.  “But he called to ask when would be good, because his boss said he could take some vacation time to come see Nolan and me.  I figured maybe in a week or two would be good, but I wanted to run it by you and Luc first.” 

            He considered.  They had officially opened shop almost a week ago, and the upstairs loft was _almost_ finished for being organized… not exactly stocked, but that wasn’t as relevant.  “He’s going to take the bus, right?”  At her nod, he decided, “My only bit would be to say have him arrive right about when I’m getting off night shift and can square in some sleep while he’s getting his wind back from the travel, that way we meet each other on decent footing.” 

            Her smile was sweet… yet somehow still mischievous.  “I was already planning on it.  Nolan has a term break coming up in a week, so I thought that would be best.” 

            Duo shrugged, letting her fall back to her feet.  “Whatever Luc says, then.” 

            “Spoken like a true henchman,” she returned cheerily, practically skipping over to the door that separated the garage from the ‘house.’  He had just crossed the boundary of the driveway when she pounced him. 

            Rolling his eyes, Duo followed her as she flicked through papers on the desk; they had, as they had hoped, gotten more business with the opening of a true shop.  Coming up behind her to look as well, he had the sudden urge to pull her close… and felt another thrill that not only was he allowed, but that she’d appreciate it. 

            After almost two months of going out, he was beginning to think that the ability to be stupidly happy over something so easy would never fade… and that was an entirely awesome idea. 

            She made a happy sort of noise and smiled up at him, leaning back slightly as he held her, before returning her attention to the papers.  Reading over her shoulder, he asked, “Is there anything I need to get done before I get some sleep?”  He had just gotten off his shift with Tate; they had decided that unless it was extra money for a rush or something, the work that needed his more expert attention could wait until he’d slept half the day away. 

            “Nothing I can’t handle,” she informed him easily, tilting her head backwards to look him in the face.  “Nothing on rush either way; if there was someone else to watch for a customer, I wouldn’t mind taking a nap too, really.” 

            “I could go steal Sin,” he suggested, maybe a little too quickly from the way ‘Liss was grinning at him.  That was something he’d decided he _really_ liked – not sleeping alone.  All they did was sleep, maybe some low key making out, but… there was something comforting about not being alone.  He had been alone for so much of his life that he supposed it should’ve been normal for him not to like company, especially with his paranoia, but he had learned during the war that even someone as nerve-racking as _Heero_ crashing next to him was nice.  _It’s probably left over from my crew days._   Heating was expensive in space, so while the ‘outdoor’ temperature on the L2 colony he grew up on wasn’t enough to cause hypothermia for the urchins making up Solo’s crew – because none of the rich liked it _that_ cold – it was enough to end with them all sleeping in something just short of a pile. 

            “She probably _is_ bored,” his girlfriend allowed.  Their friend had gotten the waitress position down at the pub that Melissa had vacated, but so far it was only certain nights a week, and it didn’t include Wednesdays.  Amos wanted to get in what time he could and was an official employee under Melissa – unlike Chaos, who would be getting paid under the table – and would work Saturday mornings along with a fair number of afternoons after school.  Melissa had a graveyard shift patrol for the militia several nights a week, overlapping a little with his nights working for Tate.  They had tentatively worked it out so that they would be sleeping at the same time for at least half the week… and with some adjusting by, say, recruiting Karina, something more regular could be devised.  Most of their actual working hours would be in the afternoon and evening. 

            Shaking her head, Melissa decided, “You’ve been running around enough already… you handle the shop and I’ll go get her, huh?” 

            “Sounds good,” he agreed readily.  Part of him wanted to protest – she’d worked through the night too –but the other part reminded him that she had been off shift for over two hours and had had some chance to recuperate, while his body wasn’t _quite_ shaky from the lifting he had stopped doing maybe fifteen minutes ago.  She tossed him a knowing sort of smirk before running out, headed back to the Den. 

            He supposed at least his work with Tate was building up his point blank strength so that in a fight he had some true muscle to go with the speed he had always relied on; that had proven to make a hell of a difference when he fought the Slingers in their own Den.  Not that he had thought it wouldn’t, but he had never had the time to devote to pure strength training while under G’s tutelage, let alone during the war.  Having grown a decent bit, he also had a better reach now, which was an advantage he _definitely_ enjoyed. 

            _I wonder how much the other guys have changed?_  

            He grimaced hard, dropping into the chair sitting at the desk.  _Why’d I have to go and think something like that?_   Those were the kind of thoughts that led to outright depression, and that was really the last thing he needed.  Some days it felt like they had just been on different missions for a while and he’d group back up with Quatre or Heero next week, maybe… and on some level, those were the thoughts that scared him.  After all, he liked to think he had moved on and that _wrecked_ that idea, and then…  Well, hope was cruel.  He had ruthlessly decided a long time ago that the other gundam pilots were dead – partly so that he would _quit thinking about it_ , but mostly because it was great to find out you were wrong with something like that, but hell to believe somebody was alright when there was a good chance that they were anything but. 

            He’d learned how dangerous keeping that sort of hope was a long time ago.  Sure, it had saved Hilde out at _Libra_ that once, but he wasn’t stupid enough to believe her survival was much more than dumb luck.  To hope was to open yourself up to a world of hurt… and he preferred to only open those doors to fairly safe bets, if he could help it. 

            So the only hope he really allowed himself to be believe about the other pilots at all was that Heero was still alive… and that was really just because the guy got himself ‘killed’ so often that he couldn’t make himself believe the whackjob was gone unless he saw the body. 

            Sighing slightly, he sat down behind the desk and started stretching out his shoulders; it wouldn’t be too long before the girls came back. 

-

***

-

**Undetermined**

            “This is _irritating_!” 

            Jake snorted.  “It didn’t occur to you that it would be hard to pull back, that short?” 

            “I haven’t had hair this short since before I started school,” Relena returned, rolling her eyes before scowling again at her reflection; far too many bits were still escaping her ponytail. 

            “It’s strange to see you so fussy about your appearance,” her bodyguard pointed out, still grinning. 

            She sighed.  “It’s just… it’s still new.  It’s been two weeks, but I’m still startled by my reflection.”  Pulling the rubber band out again, she shook her hair out and reached for her brush again.  “And I didn’t think it would be this much hassle to make it look decent when pulled back.” 

            Jake inspected his nails with far too much attention; she swore it was just to get on her nerves.  “At risk of sounding far too feminine, it’ll work just fine if you get some of those metal clippie things.”  Looking back at her, he added, “Or a headband… I would suggest a hat as well, but since this is half publicity, it would depend on how much it hid your face.”  

            “‘Metal clippie things?’”  She wanted to avoid a headband; they usually gave her a headache and hardly looked professional.  There was some major appeal to the idea of a baseball cap, at least for days like this one where she was going to look at crops, but she honestly had no idea what he’d meant about the ‘clippies.’  Bobby pins might work, but she had no idea how to slip them into her hair without making a mess of it. 

            He frowned, looking up.  “Lucrezia used to wear them all the time, before she started cutting her hair like the guys…  You, like, push on them to make them shut.” 

            Relena blinked.  “Noin had long hair?”  She couldn’t even picture it. 

            “Eh, about the same length as yours is now,” he conceded.  “Before she started having real issues with people underestimating her for being a girl, at least; she cut it off about the same time she started insisting people use her last name.”  Shrugging a bit, he added, “I’ve honestly never understood that, seeing as _Zechs_ practically sat on his hair and refused to even put the shit back in a ponytail, but any of the other chicks in training usually had it really long and kept in a bun or something.  I think her issue was more being associated with them than it was the guys thinking she couldn’t keep up, really.” 

            “I suppose that makes sense…  How old was she?” 

            “Mm… it was before I left the first time, so eleven?  Almost twelve, I think, because she was a couple levels up from the newbies by the time she chopped it, so she had to have been there for over a year.” 

            “So she joined at ten.”  _Still young, but that’s supposed to be the record for the youngest OZ took, not **nine**._  

            “Yeah, then her dashing prince showed up maybe six months later,” Jake noted wryly.  “I’m still not sure why she was so taken with him, though pretty much all the girls were.  That overly confident way he has of holding himself?  He had that even on his first day.  He was…is… flashy.”  He shook his head a little.  “But yeah, the clippies…  Do you know which ones I mean?  They’re kinda triangle-shaped.”  At her confused, vaguely amused look, he frowned more, gesturing pointlessly with his hands.  “They’re metal, and the middle part moves down, it works like a spring to hold tension when you push it back with hair in between…” 

            She was relatively sure she knew exactly what he was talking about, probably something common that she just hadn’t paid much mind to seeing as her hair had been under control, but his description made her even more confused.  “You’re overcomplicating this,” she told him dryly. 

            He made a frustrated sort of noise, walking to the connecting door to the next-door room, where the rest of security was.  “I need to go out to get something,” he told them briskly.  “She’s staying, so who’s getting off their ass to keep polite conversation?” 

            “ _So_ elegant,” Relena noted, resisting the urge to shake her head. 

            “Elegance was in the job description?” he asked in mock surprise.  “Oh shit!” 

            “Tch.”  Coming back out of the bathroom to stand next to Jake, she decided, “I’m going to call room service for some breakfast, if anyone else wants to add to the order.” 

            “Bribery with food is a textbook move!” the blonde man cried in mock indignation. 

            “So long as it works, I see no point in unnecessary creativity,” Relena returned primly before grinning at the contingent of men next door.  This wasn’t all of them, but it _was_ all those currently on duty.  There were two other hotel rooms nearby where others were sleeping, like Mitchell.  “So, is anyone else hungry?” 

            “I’ve already eaten, but I don’t mind keeping company,” one returned easily, standing.  It was… Lincoln Sobrie, if she remembered right. 

            “Cool, I’ll be right back,” Jake muttered, moving for the door. 

            Another soldier, Cassidy, shrugged a little as his superior left.  “If you tell us what you want, it’d be better to order it through here and we’ll add whatever.” 

            She nodded, looking back to the door Jake had left through in dismay.  “Whatever their breakfast special is… if they don’t have one, ask what they recommend and go with that.”  It was a running experiment for every place she went, now; it was a surprisingly good indicator of what ‘normal’ was in a given area. 

            And speaking of the relativity of ‘normal’?  _Jake just left to find me **hair clips**._   Shaking her head and moving to sit at the foot of one of the beds in the room her lower ranking bodyguards were in, she started up a conversation with Lincoln, and inevitably the rest of the men as well. 

            She had never claimed to understand men, but she was becoming more and more certain that Jake Miller was decidedly odd. 

-

***

-

# August 17th 197 – Thursday – Prague, Czech Republic

            “So were you really serious about running into a gundam pilot?” 

            Xu groaned at Hilde’s voice.  “When did you get here?” he asked morosely.  _And it was turning out to be such a good day, too…_  

            “You’re cheerful,” she noted dryly. 

            “And you _are_ cheerful,” he returned, thoroughly annoyed that she had decided to seek him out for no particular reason again.  Technically speaking, they were partners, seeing as their skill level was so close, but Hilde took pride in widening the gap, and he generally found himself frustrated at his apparent inability to close it again. 

            The woman’s learning curve was _insane_. 

            She rolled her eyes.  “Cheerfulness usually gets you something easier than being an ass,” she returned sharply.  “If you learned that, maybe you’d blend in enough to not get _shot_.” 

            “ _Thank_ -you,” he grit out, narrowing his eyes.  “Your advice is _so_ helpful.” 

            Hilde made a sort of half amused, half irritated noise.  “Are you going to answer my question or not?” 

            He sighed; perhaps if she got her answer, she’d leave him in peace to continue working tension out of the bicep he’d gotten a bullet through on his last mission… though it _had_ been almost five months since he’d received the injury.  “Other than his word and what he was capable of, I have no proof,” he noted.  “But considering just how _fast_ he was, and his aim while moving that fast, and the fact that he’d been tracking me since _Jerusalem_?  I’m not inclined to doubt him.” 

            “What did he look like?” 

            Xu sighed again; he had reported to Po… why couldn’t she just get her information from Po?  “Short, blonde, blue eyes.  He talked in a monotone… but something about him really set me on edge.” 

            She frowned.  “Well, that last bit sounds like Heero, I guess.  If it really was him, we’ll hear from him eventually.” 

            He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and say something along the lines of ‘no shit.’  Instead, he shook his head and noted, “He thought I was Wufei, apparently… was really annoyed once he saw my face.” 

            “Well, if I spent three months tracking you off hints of rumors and it turned out you weren’t the person I was even looking for, I’d be pretty pissed too.” 

            “Why do you go out of your way to state the obvious?” he asked irritably.  _Why can’t she just go away already?_  

            “It’s called thinking out loud, you know,” she returned nonchalantly, staring off into space.  “I seriously can’t see Heero _blonde_.” 

            Xu blinked; he had known that his sometimes partner was friends with the gundam pilot Duo Maxwell, but he hadn’t realized she might know the others.  _That **would** explain her trying to ask for my impression directly._   “You knew Heero Yuy too?” 

            She made a face.  “Vaguely; he was quiet in a sort of intense, almost creepy way.  I only met him briefly a couple of times.” 

            Remembering those cold eyes, Xu forced himself not to shrug uncomfortably.  Something about that look _had_ made his skin crawl.  “That was about my impression,” he admitted.  “And when I mentioned Po, he looked surprised and asked what _Doctor_ Po had to do with anything.” 

            Hilde smiled fondly.  “If he really is Heero, we should take that as a compliment,” she explained.  “Duo always used to say that if he put his mind to it, Heero could do anything, and getting information was one of his specialties.  That’s probably how he was able to track you at all.” 

            “How many specialties does the guy _have_?”  It seemed like every time a subject came up, it was listed as his specialty. 

            Hilde gave him a disbelieving look.  “He can set his own broken _femur_ and walk it off.  If he decides he wants something, there’s no stopping him.  He’s a little messed up in the head, but he had to have been the most capable of the five – though you could say Duo was, since they were both pretty extreme in totally different areas.  Quatre was almost entirely tactics, apparently, and you knew Wufei…  Trowa, I’m not too clear on, he had amnesia by the time I knew anything about him, but he knows MS inside out and pilots just as well as Duo and Heero, and he’s a pretty major acrobat too.  He was actually part of a circus, back in the war, though all I ever saw him do on stage was get knives thrown at him.” 

            “I really didn’t need a summary.” 

            She rolled her eyes, standing.  “You’re a real asshole, you know?  Go ahead and brood, then, see if I care.” 

            …It really didn’t help his mood that she might have a point there. 

-

***

-

**Unknown**

            “No, your fingers go here, and you want to rest the weight back a little.  Good.  No, never rest on the trigger unless you’re ready to fire.” 

            The girl made an exasperated sort of sound.  “The safety is on, it’s fine.” 

            “Breeding bad habits gets you shot in the foot,” he retorted, feeling as if he was quoting something… but then, this entire lesson so far had been one big case of déjà vu.  He wasn’t entirely sure why, seeing as he only had vague memories of first learning to fire a gun, but he was admittedly grasping at all he could recall to try to pass it on with minimal fuss. 

            Marlé frowned.  “I wouldn’t have thought it would fit in my hands so easy,” she admitted.  “I thought guns were big.”  She started to bring it up to look at it, then caught herself and twisted her arms slightly instead, keeping the barrel pointed away and toward the ground.  “Except maybe purse guns, and this is an action movie gun.” 

            He felt his lips twitch into a smile, and decided not praise her for remembering to keep the gun pointed safely; her faint blush told him that she was busy hoping he hadn’t noticed her near mistake, and he had learned she would only be more mortified by congratulations on correcting herself.  Instead he noted, “It was originally made for the police.” 

            She frowned at the weapon.  “That doesn’t explain why it’s no issue for me to hold it.” 

            Odin shook his head a little, half crouching behind her, and tapped at her left knee to indicate she needed to adjust her stance.  “Korean police.” 

            She blinked at that, then grinned, shifting the way she stood until he nodded.  “Is this what you learned on?” she asked curiously. 

            He bit slightly at the inside of his cheek; he had been trying to figure out exactly that, actually.  The weight felt _right_ , the weapon looked exactly as the memory suggested, and he could almost swear he could hear his father standing behind him giving the same pieces of advice he was passing on to Marie, but he _knew_ they hadn’t had one of these in their inventory when he was given his first gun. 

            But he had _wanted_ one, he’d asked for this model as his first choice before Odin distracted him with other designs… so had they gotten rid of it for some reason, or was it just a boy’s fancy of perfect? 

            “I don’t know,” he admitted after a moment.  “It was a long time ago.”  He was relatively sure he had started to learn when he was four, that he had received his first handgun at five, but it was hard to say; Odin hadn’t believed in celebrating birthdays, at least not in the traditional way for children.  He vaguely remembered being told it was his birthday over dinner more than once, but it had had about as much importance as hearing what day of the week it was… and all he could remember was that those days were warm, so it was unlikely he had been born in the winter.  He didn’t remember ever being told how old he was on those days.  It hadn’t been important. 

            He didn’t think they had ever done jobs on his birthday… though Odin _had_ acted differently, the more he thought about it.  He paid more attention to him than he might otherwise have, watching him practice or helping him work through a project, but his eyes were sad, and he would stare off into space more often than not… 

            “Odin?” 

            Marlé was looking at him worriedly, he realized, so he smiled slightly for her and started explaining how to use the sights, having her aim at a line of tin cans and plastic bottles he had set up before explaining more about shooting; he had made sure she understood cleaning and loading and other general care weeks ago. 

            While he spoke, he tackled his latest revelation – that Odin’s depression had always deepened on his birthday.  It hadn’t affected their day-to-day routine, and he hadn’t treated him any differently… but his mind had definitely been elsewhere, on something that upset him… and made him want to watch his son more closely.  That look he had had… it was miserable, yet happy at the same time… 

            “Marlé?” 

            “Yeah?”  She was focusing hard, narrowing her eyes. 

            “You’re too tense,” he corrected quickly, frowning slightly.  “Relax your body to take some of the impact instead or you’ll jerk back harder than you want, and don’t squint.”  Watching her sigh slightly and do as he suggested, he asked, “Do mothers die in childbirth much anymore?” 

            She seemed startled by the question, and lowered the weapon so the barrel pointed straight at the ground.  “Um… less than they used to, but it still happens more than people think.  At least, that’s what Mom said when she was doing her obstetrics rotation.  Why?” 

            “My father always looked sad on my birthday,” he admitted.  In one part of his mind, he was marveling at how he had come to speak so freely of his thoughts to Mariemaia… and wondered if that flow of thought to speech would extend to others eventually.  In another, he was correcting himself, noting that Odin had insisted on a number of occasions that they were not actually father and son.  On the other hand, it was logical that, even if Odin had not been his father, he had known his mother.  There was never any question of trust or hints of fear surrounding the man from his earliest memories, which suggested Odin had had him through those typical trust issue toddling years. 

            Unbidden, he could hear the man muttering at the table of some restaurant they were having dinner at, _“Finish at least half the serving.  At least you’ll eat green things now; I seem to remember a mistake of identity of pureed broccoli for **paint** a few years ago…”_  

            He bit the inside of his cheek as he felt his lips twist in another brief smile.  He had been so affronted by the idea of such childlike behavior that he had eaten everything on his plate, including the garnishes… which was likely the point behind the comment. 

 _So, he had me from some degree of infancy._   That solidified his new theory. 

            “I guess that would make sense,” Marlé admitted.  “He never talked about her?” 

            “Odin never liked to talk about the past,” he explained.  “He didn’t talk about more than a few months into the future, either.” 

            She blinked.  “Your dad’s name is Odin too?” 

            Heero frowned.  “His name was Odin… but I’m not really sure he was my father.  My papers usually said Odin too, but that could be the same as yours saying Marlé.” 

            “But he looked sad on your birthday?” 

            “Yeah.” 

            She considered that.  “I’ll be twelve on September 9th.” 

            He knew that… he had used her true date of birth on her identification papers, because it would be easier for her to remember.  He realized, however, that her statement was really a question.  “Mine… is during the summer.” 

            “You don’t know?” 

            “It was never relevant.” 

            “It’s your _birthday_ , though.”  When he only gave her a steady look, the girl sighed and rolled her eyes.  “Well, we’ll just have to make one up, then.” 

            “Why?” 

            “So we can celebrate it.” 

            Her expression suggested he was stupid for thinking otherwise.  He was, however, wary of the idea.  He had only been to a single birthday party in his life, and despite the vaguely pleasant affair of dancing with Relena after she had already turned fifteen a few days previous, he had no desire to repeat the experience.  “Celebrate how, exactly?” 

            His ‘sister’ appeared to be getting exasperated.  “I don’t know, we’ll get ice cream and do something you think is fun, or something!” 

            _…That doesn’t sound so bad._   So long as no one saw fit to gape at him and take pictures for purely obsessive reasons.  _I haven’t had ice cream in years._   “Alright.”  He gestured toward the targets, indicating she ought to continue. 

            Marlé wasn’t done yet, however.  “So, when should it be?” 

            Heero frowned.  It was still August, and therefore still summer… and ice cream sounded good.  “Hit those targets and we’ll go back into town and have ice cream before searching the last couple hospitals.”  They had gone through the possible candidates for Marie’s mother in the nearby city earlier that day before renting a moped to come out into the countryside and concentrate on the girl’s more practical education. 

            “August 17th, then,” she announced happily before turning back to what she was doing with her usual vigor… and Odin shrugged.  If she wanted to get that excited about it, she was allowed. 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium – City – Night**

            Dorothy paused at the sound of heavy bass, considering the building it was coming from.  A midnight wander had seemed as good an idea as any, and it had somehow led her to a district she had never bothered to frequent before… which apparently had a club. 

            _Well, I was looking for **something** …_  Curious, she went to peek in the door. 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium – Compound**

            “General Lee?” 

            The head of the Department of Defense growled slightly, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.  “Schbeiker,” he drawled.  “Is the bane of this organization.” 

            Indeed, he was beginning to believe that her apparent innocence during the last war, at least until she had left OZ, had been a carefully crafted subterfuge to conceal her ingenuity.  Perhaps she had merely joined for information, and her direct clash and detainment of the gundam pilot Duo Maxwell, followed by his escape and her discharge, had all been part of some highly convoluted plot, however ill conceived. 

            The alternative – that a woman who had merely scored average by all counts upon her entrance to the Order of the Zodiac had elevated to her current skill level this quickly – made him alternately want to weep or kill whatever fool had dismissed her potential.  If only _his_ soldiers showed this capacity. 

            Instead, he had another stolen carrier with twelve Tauruses in rebel hands.  That was discounting the dead soldiers that had been guarding said carrier, and the damage done to the surrounding area from the firefight she had single-handedly won.  They only knew as much as they did because she had been forced to delay destroying _one_ of the cameras in the hangar and the debacle was partially recorded for his viewing misery.  A brimmed hat hid her face, but the dark clothing that was practically her mission uniform was tight enough that she could not be mistaken for a man, and that low black ponytail that came to the middle of her back was distinct. 

            She hadn’t left any first-hand witnesses to her crime, this time. 

            “A carrier from Warsaw?” 

            “That’s what it looks like, sir.  Schbeiker again.” Lee grumbled to Milliardo Peacecraft, sitting up straighter in front of the monitor.  Peacecraft had pulled him out of retirement for this position, and generally he thought he did a decent job… but this was a disgrace. 

            A disgrace he had had the unfortunate pleasure of far too often, of late. 

            “Casualties?”  His voice was light, but brisk: this was Zechs Marquise, the Lightning Count, not some pampered prince. 

            “Nine, sir,” Lee returned darkly, putting the video file back to the start so his superior could watch it himself. 

            “…She’s quite good,” he commented after a minute. 

            Lee sighed.  “That she is, sir.” 

            “Have you had any luck following her?” 

            “Absolutely none, sir.” 

            The blonde man was silent for a moment… before nodding slightly and moving away.  “I want an update on the situation, whatever it is, in an hour.” 

            “Yes, sir.” 

-

***

-

**August 25 th 197 ** **– Friday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “Meeting your future in-law today, huh Kay?” 

            Chaos rolled his eyes, moving at Shov like he was going to hit him, then drew back as the man _very_ quickly danced away.  He wasn’t _actually_ offended at everyone’s teasing him about Mr. Mehile coming to visit, but they made such a big deal about it that _some_ retaliation here and there was due. 

            He still had no real plan about what to say and do to get the man’s approval – and he had decided that he certainly _did_ want approval – but it would hardly be the first time he played something by ear. 

            This wasn’t to say that he wasn’t a _little_ bit nervous, though. 

            On one hand, he knew it was ridiculous, considering the fact that Will already knew a great deal about him because Melissa kept up a great deal of correspondence with her father.  The man _already_ liked him, so it really shouldn’t be at all tricky to maintain that kinship.  On the other hand, her father’s opinion greatly influenced Melissa… and that made this more important that he really wanted to admit. 

            The duality of it made him want to go confront the man immediately, with no care for finesse, just to get it over and done with. 

            “Kay, can you give me a hand?” 

            He ducked into the room quickly, grabbing a fresh diaper off the dresser to hand to Rina, who was in the midst of changing a happily kicking and rolling three-month-old.  He moved on to distract Renee by tickling her chest, stroking her cheeks so she giggled, while her mother made quick work of cleaning her up. 

            “You headed to the shop, then?” 

            He nodded.  “’Liss will have put up a be back by sign of some sort, but I want to already be there by the time they come back from picking Nolan up from school.”  The man had come in earlier that day, around the same time Chaos had been going to sleep, and proceeded to take a nap in his daughter’s bed while she went to watch the shop.  It was the Friday before Nolan’s break from school, so she had come back to the Den in time to wake him up to go get her brother, since it had been a while since they had seen their father. 

            Unfortunately, Shov had thought Chaos he had set an alarm instead of taking his casual ‘Make sure I’m awake by two’ very seriously, and he was now running behind. 

            “I’ll see you all at dinner, then,” Rina muttered by way of good-bye, her attention focused on the baby she was making silly faces at. 

            “Later,” he agreed, heading back out at a fast walk.  He broke into a run once he was outside. 

-

***

-

**Undetermined**

            Relena smiled at the children she had just given sweets to, and they smiled back; their mothers were very obviously happy as well, acting proud and muttering at them in a sort of happily lecturing tone while alternately thanking her.  She had no real idea on what was actually being said due to the language barrier, but the sentiments were getting across just the same. 

            She stood up from her crouch to find Jake already next to her, muttering in her ear.  “I’m having the boys give out and it’s obvious what they’re up to; we’ll stay for a couple more minutes before moving back inside.” 

            She nodded, smiling more broadly as she caught sight of the cues lining up by the administrative tables set up nearby as well as Jake’s ‘boys’ starting conversations at the edges of the crowd and discreetly passing small amounts of cash to families or particularly ragged-looking individuals.  Those standing in line were making requests for immediate relief as well as noting what needs were more consistently lacking.  Chances were they already knew the worst problem areas, but they varied slightly from place to place and it helped people feel like they were participating in the effort even if it wasn’t helpful at all. 

            Hope and self-efficacy were crucial to success, here.  These people had more or less been abandoned for the past few years, ever since maybe halfway through the war; they wouldn’t take kindly to a ‘rescue’ effort even if they desperately needed it because, simply, they had had to handle themselves and make do for so long that any effort with that attitude would only earn disdain. 

            She stole a glance at Jake and felt a warm sort of glow spread through her chest.  The man seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself, doing little sleight of hand tricks to pull a coin from behind a boy’s ear then letting him keep it, reaching out to tousle the kid’s hair briefly.  He was repeating variations of the trick and others, rolling a coin across his knuckles before flicking it to a little girl… 

            Jake really seemed to like children.  The orphans were always the first groups he focused on when they were going through a crowd like this, then those that were with their mothers second.  She could understand, so she generally let him lead their overall direction, seeing as he made sure to never be so far as a yard away from her.  The other bodyguards were never far, often another was just as close, but when he was on duty, Jake never strayed. 

            He stood upright, talking to a teenager with broken English, and whatever the boy said made him laugh.  They had spent so much time outside that his hair had lost most if not all of its brown and was a true blonde, and his skin was tanning a bright sort of bronze that gave him an almost exotic look.  His facial structure seemed more pronounced, somehow… 

            Despite the blonde hair, blue eyes, and bland name, her friend was definitely not Caucasian.  _Well, not fully, anyway._   It seemed like a rude question to suddenly ask, however, even if it was just out of curiosity, so she kept her silence on it. 

            “That’s probably good,” she heard Cassidy mutter to her.  “You ready?” 

            She turned to look at Jake again to see him nodding slightly and moving away from the roped off crowds, coming to stand right next to her again.  She wanted to shake her head a little at that; he always seemed to be responding to what she wanted before she had fully decided just what that was.  “How does he do that?” she muttered under her breath. 

            Cassidy snorted softly.  “It’s from spending far too much time in espionage.” 

            “What?” Jake asked curiously. 

            “Just giving away the secret of your telepathy, spy-boy sir,” Cassidy explained pertly. 

            His superior rolled his eyes, offering Relena a smile.  “It’s about reading body language; it wasn’t too hard, what with Cassidy already talking to you and looking at the crowd like they’re getting ready to eat him alive.” 

            “Pshh, my expression was carefully neutral, thank-you.” 

            “Your eyes twitch to the right when you lie,” Jake returned cheerfully, stepping a little behind Relena and waving slightly at the crowd. 

            Cassidy did the same, then followed the princess in perfect rank as she moved to announce her departure.  There was enough noise and the men were speaking low enough that no one would be able to overhear their bickering except her. 

            They did make it easier to keep up the smile, if harder to stay focused. 

            “How do you know something didn’t just catch my eye?” 

            “You move different when you do that.” 

            “It’s my _eye_ , sir, come _on_.” 

            “I’ve seen when something from the periphery catches your attention, and you don’t do some half-assed eye twitch, you start moving before you realize what you’ve seen.” 

            “Not always, though.” 

            “Yeah, sometimes you just twitch a little instead of moving into a more solid stance or drawing your gun,” the blonde returned dryly.  “Stop arguing, it’s a good reflex.” 

            “You don’t do it, though.” 

            “I focus on _not_ doing it the majority of the time.” 

            “So like I was saying, you spent way too much time in espionage.” 

            “No, too much would be if I was way paranoid; this is perfectly useful.” 

            “First of all, you _are_ paranoid, sir.  Second, you’re the only one who would be able to pick up on that.” 

            “…Amazingly enough, Lieutenant, there are other people with my level of training out there in the world.” 

            “Who that’s on opposing sides, outside the gundam pilots?”  

            Jake didn’t quite growl, but it was obvious he was frustrated with the conversation.  “Lucrezia Noin and possibly Hilde Schbeiker or Sally Po, _that we **know** of_ ,” he snapped.  Relena glanced at him; his expression was perfectly content, despite his tone.  “The people who are _really_ good, it’s likely we’ll never hear of them.  _Anyone_ in this crowd could be trained, so do us all a favor and don’t _try_ to be stupid.  You know better than that.” 

            “…You’re right, sir, sorry.” 

            Jake sighed slightly.  “It’s fine, just… don’t forget to be careful.  This is hardly the safest maneuver we’ve ever done.” 

            _Paranoid,_ Relena thought as she started to speak into the microphone, _is right.  But…_   There were more people than she could hope to count in every direction; it _would_ be easy to hide an assassin with this many people everywhere, and therefore anyone else who wanted to make some sort of ‘statement.’  _Whether it counts as paranoia or not, it’s still reasonable._  

-

***

-

            Adam smiled slightly to himself, shifting the strap of his backpack a little to resettle the weight.  Relena Peacecraft was making her finishing statement for this visit on a dais maybe a hundred yards away from where he stood, and he couldn’t help his curiosity.  She looked very different from what he remembered… but it seemed like maybe that was a good thing.  There was a fair chance that she was simply her brother’s puppet, but at the same time, she had always been too headstrong to go along with that sort of farce for long… and the people loved her for it. 

            Well, and it probably helped that she was implementing some much needed social reforms. 

            The princess’s tour was scheduled to run until September 19th…  It couldn’t hurt to follow her for a couple weeks and try to work out some of the underlying details in what was really going on before she returned to the deep shelter of her brother’s stronghold in Brussels.  Maybe she would be as important in the inevitably coming war as she was in the last one.  Even if she didn’t manage anything important, however, others thought she might, and that alone was enough to warrant some extra attention. 

            And in his opinion, she might well be not only important, but integral, vital even, to Earth’s future. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “So, let’s see this dreamboat guy of yours,” suggested a man’s amused voice. 

            “Daddy,” I heard Melissa reprimand.  “You have to behave.” 

            “How am I misbehaving?” he asked in a petulant sort of a tone.  “The way you talk, this ‘Chaos’ is Mr. Perfect – a few compliments won’t do any harm.” 

            I grinned as picked up the sound of a hand slapping against leather; my girl had undoubtedly hit her father in the arm.  “You’ll embarrass him!” she protested. 

            “Huh, bashful too, even better.”  He _did_ sound incredibly pleased with himself. 

            My grin widened.  _I think I’m going to like him._   This probably wasn’t going to be stressful at all.  “I don’t know about bashful,” I called down below as I stood; I’d been tinkering up in the loft when I heard them come in.  “I’m too confident to be shy,” I admitted, inviting banter. 

            Will took the bait happily.  “Not _too_ confident, I hope?” 

            I laughed.  “Only as much as I’m warranted.” 

            His own laughter wasn’t quite naughty as I came down the stairs.  Melissa was grinning and looking pleased with herself in general, and, feeling impulsive, I quickly went over to peck her on the lips… then worried that maybe I had gone too far when Will’s laughter abruptly stopped.  _That’s weird._   From how he had been acting, such a small sign of affection shouldn’t be that forbidden. 

            Stepping away from ‘Liss, I turned to face Will directly.  He was middle-aged, and looked as though he might have once been heavyset, but the last year and change had caused him to lose any excess cushion he might have once carried.  Melissa had his eyes. 

            He was staring at me in a shocked, slack-jawed sort of way.  I felt my blood run cold as realization dawned. 

            _Oh **shit**._  

            He recognized me. 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments? Theories, concerns?


	27. Under Wraps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's important to remember that everyone, every single person in the world, keeps at least a few secrets, whether or not it's a good idea for them to do so. It's a part of human nature. It's not until those secrets start to cause harm that you should really get concerned... And if you decide to strip away what someone went to great lengths to hide, you should expect retaliation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to note that more of what I’m drawing up here is also from the information revealed in the manga “Battlefield of Pacifists,” the official story that takes place between the TV series and Endless Waltz. Obviously, the plot itself won’t play a role in here, as the events don’t line up for such a thing to happen again, but Vulkanus and Scorpio are from that canon, and I might steal a character or two from there as well for the sake of expanding the plot. 
> 
>  
> 
> The edits in this are mostly just expanding the details of the politics and military situation in Treize's scene, and otherwise grammatical. It ties things together a little more firmly and gives us greater insight to Treize, but not much else.

**-**

**_Under Wraps _ **

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**August 25th 197 – Friday – Space – Space Fortress Barge ruins**

            “Passcode is 56VI,” Treize muttered to Duncan, forcing himself to _not_ twitch his fingers as they barely slid past another piece of debris.  He trusted his men, and knew Ryder was an excellent flier, he had trained him himself, years ago… but trust didn’t stop instincts and reflexes. 

            More than anything, he wanted to fly the ship himself. 

            One of the downsides of command, however, was delegation; it tended to offend your men if you never let them _do_ anything.  And while Duncan would merely be amused by a command to stand down and let his commander do the dirty work, the situation could still get sticky very quickly, and if it did, he would be needed in a more… practical fashion. 

            If he hadn’t interpreted Tubarov’s riddle correctly, Vulkanus would come alert very quickly, and he _didn’t_ trust any of his soldiers to handle the ‘watchdog’ for the mobile doll factory by themselves.  Possibly for the first time, he regretted having to fully destroy Tallgeese II back at the battle of _Libra_ ; it was necessary in order to escape and leave evidence of a false death, but he had the specs for the Scorpio he might soon be facing, and… 

            Well, it wouldn’t be fun to try handling without something around the same power guidelines as the Vayeate.  He would even have happily taken Tallgeese I, complete with its tendency of killing its pilot, than the handful of Tauruses and retrofitted Virgos he had immediately at hand. 

            Truthfully, he would rather wash his hands of this business – however much power a suit offered, the war had taught him just how _terrible_ the devastation of a mobile suit battle could be.  In so many ways, he wondered if it wouldn’t be better to leave the technology behind entirely, to hell with the fact that he was one of the best with it, because fighting face to face didn’t leave tens of miles of ruined farmland that would take a decade or more to return to normal.  He knew that any type of warfare desolated the scenery, even if they reverted back to nothing but swords, but… he wondered, sometimes, if humanity was doomed to this constant cycle of destruction.  If there _was_ an end point, a form of true peace, or if everything he had sought to change since he was old enough to realize how _twisted_ the world was had only been a waste. 

            _But I cannot afford to think that way._   The pacifists had been shot down, forcefully and repeatedly, without mercy, and now they had bigger fish to fry.  The weapons in their conflicts had been chosen long before his time, and if he wanted to do anything of worth, he had to play the game. 

            For better or worse, he _needed_ Vulkanus.  If he didn’t take it, someone else would.  And so long as he could trust no one else, then the safest hands were his own. 

            Nearly all of the infighting since _Libra_ had been games of espionage and guerilla – deep covers or hit and run tactics favored by those more focused on building their foundations, on living to see the next year, than bucking the latest saddle.  That might last for another year, give or take; less if circumstances shifted, but as many as two or three if they declined.  Eventually, however, given the Regime’s stance and Romefeller’s ruminating silence, the struggle _would_ escalate back into MS warfare; and the bare remnants Treize had of the army he brought to bear against _Libra_ could not stand against a man who could call all the old factories on Earth back into working form. 

            He grimaced as he considered that idea.  _It might well improve the economy if he did._   If the public could swallow it without moral outcry, at least. 

            In any case, Treize only possessed those comparatively few suits whose pilots had managed to escape the nightmare of _Libra_ without detection from the newly rising Peacecraft Regime, those of Dekim’s stock that they had escaped with before the Regime finished moving into L3-X18999 in June, and Captain Broden’s squadron. 

            And to think, once, he had thought Broden’s men might have been the last push they needed to tip the scales at _Libra_ , if only he hadn’t arrived so late.  They had been so _close_ to success, and it _should_ have been possible to win, to destroy _Libra_ before it could fall so devastatingly that for months he had poured over every detail, trying to seek out just where he had gone wrong.  When the man and his troops had re-entered known space the urge to lay the blame at their feet had been tempting, however nonsensical… 

            …but it had turned out to be a gift as well. 

            Due to his rather vocal dislike of mobile dolls, Tubarov hadn’t seen fit to inform Treize of the doll plant Dermail approved for him to construct in the ruins of the Barge Fortress; hadn’t informed him _despite_ the fact that the machines could be adjusted to contain cockpits with relative ease.  Then, with the deaths of both Dermail and Tubarov in White Fang’s assault on the Lunar base, combined with the new age, mechanized nature of the construction itself?  There had been no one left who knew the project existed.  Concealed deep in the debris, Vulkanus had crunched away the raw material in anonymity, and had Broden arrived at _Libra_ in time to join the slaughterhouse, it might have been decades before anyone learned of its existence. 

            _If only Dekim hadn’t found him first._   Yet another problem with being publicly dead.  Then, they had needed to comb through Dekim’s records for the password which he’d been paranoid enough to erase entirely and simply leave a series of riddles meant for no one _but_ him to understand… and while Dekim wasn’t nearly so clever as he had believed himself to be, the consequences of misinterpreting were… severe. 

            The Scorpio suit left guarding Vulkanus, while equipped with a cockpit, was currently programmed to function as an excessively aggressive doll.  It had more than twenty feet on Epyon, carried more than twice the weight in armor and artillery, and, because that wasn’t bad enough, had been modeled after Mercurius and Vayeate principles: which meant that the armor the schematics showed as being twice as deep as that on Epyon, was all _gundanium_. 

            If he had gotten this wrong, he was about to have a very bad day.  He was relatively certain he could manage it despite the odds and limited equipment – dolls had distinct holes in programming when compared to human ingenuity – but he was going to have to scrabble tooth and nail.  It had limited close combat ability _because_ of its size, but it was also damned fast, and getting deep enough into its guard to do damage might get interesting. 

            He had put this trip off until now because he had wanted something a little more impressive than a Taurus or a retrofitted doll whose primary strengths relied on a hive mind computer system with other suits that he couldn’t _use_.  The Scorpios he had taken from Dekim had the same lack of close combat mobility and agility he’d need to take out the guard dog, so they weren’t an option. 

            Ideally, he would have preferred an original construction.  He had the funds and he’d learned from Epyon – he wouldn’t be naïve enough to use the shortcut of including Zero System as an integral part of the programming again.  Unfortunately, while he had bolt holes across the globe, he didn’t have the freedom he had enjoyed in Luxembourg, and in order to undertake such a project, he would need a secure area he could bring supplies in and out of in order to proceed with construction. 

            The fact that Princess Relena wasn’t the _only_ one with RLTT candidacy and project approval mattered little when he didn’t have the security to undertake the project in the first place.  Earth was too closely watched – he needed a sanctuary in space before he could move on this front. 

            If he could successfully secure it, Vulkanus was already expertly hidden in the debris left by the Alliance’s thoroughly destroyed space fortress.  He smirked.  The base had been such a chore to get rid of; the irony of _him_ using Barge as a stronghold was not lost on him. 

            His smirk broadened into a smile as he caught sight of the plant.  He’d don’t it right, then; if the password had been incorrect, they would have been attacked by now.  All that was left now was to set events in motion and leave men behind to do continue implementing them before heading back to the center of his information network. 

            It was tempting to stay out here, where he could move freely, feel the exhilaration of flying again, but it took too much time to send and receive information from his informants this close to Mars.  A solid line of communication was not present, and building a line for himself out of his own satellites would defeat the purpose of having a hidden stronghold.  He would simply have to tolerate his isolation for a while longer. 

            Still, it had been a good day, possible casualties averted… and he now had over three hundred mobile dolls at his disposal along with the very formidable Scorpio, outfitted to be either doll or suit, so it could literally be called to its master.  _That much is a feature I should include in any future designs,_ he decided.  Half the time he had caught up to the gundams had been because they were trying to return to the cockpit, and he had problems with dolls _fighting_ , not accessing a limited autopilot. 

            The refitting was only the beginning; moving on, the plant could be altered to build suits instead of dolls from the beginning as well as adjust the current machines, and more beyond that, once he started to get supplies out here. 

            And it certainly couldn’t hurt if he made a _little_ flying time for himself. 

-

***

-

**August 25 th 197 ** **– Friday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “Um…”  I couldn’t seem to come up with anything overly intelligent to say.  “’Liss?” 

            “Daddy?” she asked softly.  “Dammit…  Daddy, you recognize him, don’t you?” 

            “You know already?” he asked weakly, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips.  “Shit, girl, you said he was one hell of a fighter, but…” 

            I fought the urge to bounce on my toes in anticipation of… doing a variety of things I _really_ didn’t want to do.  “’Liss?” I asked again, more quietly this time to hide the rise in my voice.   _I’m not going to panic, I’m **not** going to panic…_  

            It was William who met my eyes at the quiet plea… and made me jump, much to my embarrassment.  _I’m strung tight as a wire,_ I scorned, forcing some relaxation into my muscles.  I was ready to bolt, to fight… but neither of those had very pretty outcomes.  Knocking out your girlfriend’s father was something reserved for bad movies or mafia members, or something. 

            I was glad they had dropped off Nolan back at the Den to get his homework done, though. 

            Will’s eyes were concerned now, not shocked, though he licked his lips before asking, “Are you alright, boy?” 

            _…I am **not** shaking,_ I realized in horror, forcing my muscles tight enough that they couldn’t do that anymore. 

            Will sighed, seemingly relaxed, and turned to his daughter.  “You did say he had long hair, didn’t you?” 

            Melissa gave the man a half reproachful glare.  “You _won’t_ turn him in,” she informed him, her voice soft but firm. 

            Her father blinked.  “Turn him in?” he demanded incredulously.  “Turn a hero over to the maniac who dropped a _battleship_ on the planet?!  Not even counting that my little girl thinks he’s the greatest thing since sliced bread?!” 

            “Daddy!”  Melissa’s flush was bright. 

            _…Okay, maybe this isn’t so bad…_  

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium**

            Cursing at the readout on the tiny monitor, I dug out the regiment of pills I’d been prescribed and threw them back.  The feeling of shooting electricity in my back grew stronger at the motion, however slight I’d managed to make it.  _Shit._   I was going to have to call Dr. Sanders again instead of keeping our previously arranged discreet meeting; the sensation had been back long enough that I wasn’t convinced it was just complaining muscle anymore, and possibly a return of the inflammation. 

            I really wanted a drink, but considering how badly I wanted one, it was probably a good thing that Sanders had made it clear I could well kill myself drinking with what medications I was taking, not to mention my condition.  While I was beyond miserable and overworked, the idea of suicide never entered the equation; I had far too much to get done. 

            Sighing, I settled into the window seat overlooking the dark courtyard and rested my forehead against the cool glass.  Even if others would rejoice my death – and not without good reason – chaos would reign if it happened, and that would be the end of the world, with the state of everything now.  We needed _stability_ more than we did fools parading about what was right and wrong; not that the parading shouldn’t happen, it _needed_ to, but that was for after the crisis years, after the fallout had passed, when I wasn’t fighting to keep what remained of the population _alive_. 

            However, the longer I lived, the more I saw and experienced, the more convinced I became that conflict was mankind’s daily bread, despite the teachings of my father and Heero Yuy – the _original_ Heero Yuy that united the colonies then was assassinated the year before I was born.  No matter what was done, _someone_ was always dissatisfied… and while I was not naïve enough to believe I might achieve universal popularity, I was weary of fighting.  I was weary of the day to day legislature, but it needed to be done.  Weary of the daily dance of carefully crafted truths that I had once believed I lived for… of the constant pain that had to not only be abided but hidden. 

            Shaking my head a little, I took a long pull from my glass of water.  At least my body was mostly sealed from the outside environment again.  The series of deep infections had been a hell I had never imaged, even if the debridement made them look like walking in the park by comparison.  My only mercy there was that _that_ pain was so far beyond human comprehension that it was difficult to recall.  It was only the barest edge of a silver lining, but I would take what I could. 

            I didn’t dare let the information of my physical condition become known to even those I trusted most, with the exception of the doctor.  My closest circle knew I had been seriously injured while battling Yuy just above then _in_ Earth’s atmosphere, but not the details – though I suspected Dorothy realized I had not actually recovered when I claimed to have.  She was a strange girl, but I had relied on her enough in the past to realize she was far more intelligent, observant, and cunning than the absurd face she showed the world.  She had no proof, however, and fortunately she was similar enough to her father that she would not act on mere suspicion.  The means by which she came on information were far more elusive than General Catalonia’s had been, most likely due to the odd circles the young prodigy’s mind worked in, but she never moved unless she had come to a firm conclusion.  So far, I had successfully muddied the waters enough to make her doubt. 

            I wasn’t entirely sure what would happen if she managed to put the pieces together correctly.  It was a good thing I had always concealed my form to some degree, always cared more for the decorum of my appearance than comfort, or else my style of dress, always wearing high collars and covering my neck might be suspicious, even with the terrible weather. 

            _Funny, that once I had stopped wearing my mask, the battle that ravaged the majority of my body did not touch my exposed face._

            So much had changed in the past two years.  Everything had gone wrong; nothing proceeded as planned.  Exhaustion had set in _months_ ago, but even if this all was hopeless it was not as if I had any choice but to continue trying.  Some days I wondered what might have happened had I gone with my first instinct and turned down the offer to lead White Fang, before it all began to spiral sharply downward.  Before the madness; madness that had seemed, at the time, like rather sensible action once all the pieces were considered. 

            The first thing I wanted to do if I ever found Winner was ask how the hell we had come to such damnably similar conclusions.  There was a frightening degree of similarity in the reaction to the Zero System between myself and the young heir, though I was _not_ so irresponsible as to blame my actions simply upon the machine. 

 _…Though at least his tendency towards massacre had only occurred while **in** his gundam._  

            I closed my eyes, leaning back against the wall.  Winner’s pure destruction of a largely empty colony and abandoned resource satellite didn’t hold a candle to what had happened to Earth.  He may have intended to do more before others had stopped him, but at least he hadn’t _succeeded_. 

            There was no denying that I had brought this upon myself, that I had _earned_ all the hate mail I received day by day.  That didn’t change my resolve to atone as best I could.  I had no delusions that I might ever come close enough to breaking even, that I was worth the loyalty of the people of Earth…

            But they had mine.  That had to count for something. 

            I was only a stop between in any case; in another few years, perhaps Relena would be ready. 

-

***

-

**August 26 th 197 ** **– Saturday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “So.” 

            Duo grinned back at the man, leaning back on his hands.  “So,” he agreed. 

            “Ignoring the fact that I slept in my daughter’s bed and I’m relatively sure I know where she was,” William continued on in an amused sort of ramble, “I have a handful of questions I need to ask you.” 

            “Despite the fact that we might sleep in the same place, we’re not in fact sleeping together,” Duo defended calmly.  He’d been waiting for that question. 

            “I’m aware,” the man dismissed, waving a hand.  “As I said, _ignoring_ that…  I feel a need to ask about your motives outside those surrounding my daughter.” 

            “Ah.”  He shrugged a little, looking up at the morning sky.  “I don’t suppose you’re asking about the shop, are you?”  When he didn’t get an answer, he sighed.  “Mr. Mehile-” 

            “Will,” he insisted. 

            Duo licked his lips.  “Will…  The war’s over: we lost.  It sucks, but that’s it, anything that started now would be something new… and I don’t think I need to be a part of it.”  He looked back into the other man’s eyes.  “Everything I’ve ever tried going head to head with the government has only gotten everyone I care about in trouble.  I’m more than happy to just keep my head down and move along.” 

            “…Ah.  So you’re not just biding your time?” 

            He snorted, focusing back on the sky.  “I like to think I don’t make the same mistakes over and over again.” 

            “That’s a sad way of looking at it,” Will commented quietly. 

            “Not if it helps more people than it hurts, in the end.” 

            “Why are you so sure hiding will negate trouble?  Way I’ve always seen it, trouble comes no matter what path you try for in life.  Sticking your head in the sand only makes you more vulnerable, not protected.” 

            That made his stomach twist, though he didn’t want to admit it.  “It wouldn’t have been as bad,” he explained.  “A little self-restraint at a few key moments would have ended it better.” 

            “Self-restraint, sure,” Will agreed easily.  “From what I understand, you certainly had a way of going all-out.  Hiding’s alright too, sometimes, and certainly it’s the smart thing right now, for you.  Inaction when push comes to shove can pan out just as bad as rash action, though.” 

            “You work for Po, don’t you?” he asked quietly.  “I don’t want to fight again, alright?” 

            “I don’t, and I’m more wondering what you _do_ want.” 

            He closed his eyes.  “I want to be normal.” 

            Will chuckled.  “My boy, even living as you are, I can assure you that you are both nothing short of extraordinary, and exceedingly proud of it.”  He paused a moment.  “I don’t know that Melissa would like you so much as she does if you were anything but.” 

            “Fine, I want to live to grow old,” he returned wearily.  “I want everything to keep going awesome with your daughter and follow that where it leads me.  And if you’re with one of the no-name rebel groups, you’d do better to try melding with Sally Po; she’s got an eye for organization.” 

            “Most women do,” he quipped.  “If you’re determined to sit still I’m not going to fight with you over it.  I just wanted to know what you really thought.” 

            “I think Relena will come to power eventually and offer asylum instead of a bounty for gundam,” he returned.  “Zechs’ been keeping his psychosis inside his own head anymore, and the little princess is working her magic again, so so far as I see it, it’s just a waiting game.” 

            “Zechs is only the beginning of the problem,” Will argued mildly. 

            He tugged his hat down over his eyes.  “I’m not getting into that with you.  Who are you working with?” 

            “Why not?” 

            “You don’t go into a firefight where none of your bullets match the caliber of your gun.  Who are you working with?” 

            “You’re awfully interested for someone who doesn’t want to know about anything,” Will noted. 

            “I want to know who I have to convince not to bother me.” 

            “If you don’t want to be bothered, you’ll be left alone.  He’ll be disappointed, but he’ll respect your wishes.” 

            “Sure he will,” Duo replied dubiously, lifting his hat back up to look at Will.  “Who is he?” 

            He seemed to consider me for a moment before admitting, “Treize.” 

-

***

-

**August 29 th 197 ** **– Tuesday – Munich, Germany**

            Lincoln smiled a bit as he watched his superior.  Cassidy had official charge of Miss Peacecraft right now while she was having lunch with a few officials and he was on detail outside the little restaurant.  Meanwhile, Jake was taking a rare break a few yards away from him. 

            The guy really had a thing about kids. 

            Lin had noticed this one too, though; he’d shown up a few times today, though he was fairly sure he had only noticed because he caught the colonel watching him.  He didn’t know the story and doubted he would anytime soon, but the look in the man’s eyes said enough; that mix of happiness and grief mixed together usually came together when seeing someone who reminded you of the dead. 

            It would explain his sweet spot for the little ones they ever came across, at any rate; Jake would probably give his lunch to every brat they encountered instead of just this one, if it was even vaguely feasible.  His pockets were always full of the large coins worth a handful of bucks, or those individually wrapped hard candies…  Lin had seen him tuck a handful of bills into the pocket of an older child minding a few younger ones before.  _He has to be burning at **least** half his salary like that._  

            He was resting in an easy crouch in front of the boy, talking quietly to him while the kid carefully devoured the sandwich he’d been given.  Lin smiled a little, running a careful eye over the nearby crowds for anything unusual while he mused.  It hadn’t taken him long to realize the colonel was as suited for this kind of work as Miss Peacecraft.  When he had first heard who was in charge he had thought it was because of the level of importance the princess’s security was, but it hadn’t taken him too long to realize that in a lot of ways, the two were eerily similar.  They both had that deeply humanitarian flair, which he had known about Relena but hadn’t imagined in the rumors about the ex-Special.  The man managed to be strict as hell yet laid back at the same time in an odd sort of dichotomy that tended to confuse both friend and foe into underestimating him, but Lin had been smart enough not to test the steel beneath his easy words and stance; he’d already seen the resulting injuries friends claimed he had caused. 

            Besides, David Mitchell was the same way, and everyone who had ever seen Treize in the more personal sense claimed the same of him.  Zechs Marquise  was the only one he’d heard of who had _always_ been utterly formal, at least according to the ex-Specials willing to talk about him – pure fluid speed and power, full-time.  That was how he had earned his nickname of ‘Lightning Count.’  Milliardo Peacecraft, as he now called himself, was certainly intimidating, but after a while you became accustomed to it and he could handle that… 

            On the other hand, Lin wasn’t sure if he was excited or scared at the prospect of seeing Colonel Miller shed the easygoing nature that hid his underlying steel.  He’d heard enough rumors about how frightening Mitchell could get when he went into action, and Mitchell _looked up to_ Miller. 

            “Sir,” he muttered as Jake came back up to him… and handed him his wallet. 

            “I’ve got your post,” the man informed him happily.  “Go inside and order twenty some sandwiches… a couple different kinds, but don’t let them have fun with the spices; simple stuff a group of kids can stomach.  Make sure everything has cheese, but keep it bland.” 

            Lin blinked for a moment as his superior started explaining, then smiled down at the kid’s wide, _very_ blue eyes.  “Yes, sir.” 

            There were much worse kinds of commander to have than humanitarian. 

-

***

-

**Unknown**

            Marlé sighed, massaging the flesh between thumb and forefinger first on one hand, then the other.  When Odin decided to do something, he really went all-out and _did_ it.  Normally she appreciated that – she’d always hated the busywork her teachers passed out in school – but this several times a day every day schedule was making her hands hurt. 

            She _was_ pretty good already, though.  He’d even suggested she was something of a natural, which made her flush with pride… 

            …before he made her move further back from her target. 

            _Practice makes perfect,_ she lectured herself, sighing a little.  Odin was obsessed with the idea of either practice or perfection; she hadn’t decided which.  It was ridiculous, but she could hardly deny the results of following his regimen, and really, it was part of what made him so cool.  He was, like, the ultimate source of… everything awesome.  The thoroughness of his knowledge and abilities just made her more determined to catch up to the expert. 

            He hadn’t let her _think_ about firing a shot until she could properly clean the weapon, consistently fill a clip in under twenty seconds, take apart and reassemble it in under a minute.  He had drilled her on the common problems that could arrive from too much wear in the weapon, how to spot flaws and subterfuge, and had explained how their current firearm differed from others in its same class.  She wasn’t sure she was totally on level with that, as they only had one gun in superb shape and there was no practical section on it, but she felt reasonably sure that she wouldn’t find herself in trouble. 

            _…Since, you know, I am **totally** going to go gun shopping anytime soon._   Rolling her eyes, she stretched her hands, fingers splayed out wide, before working her thumbs in tight circles in an attempt to further assuage the bruised muscle.  She froze when she heard a soft sound, however, straining her ears. 

            When she had proven herself impossible to imbalance by anything but brute strength, the game had evolved into strikes and dodging.  He didn’t hit hard, very obviously pulling back his smacks once he realized they would land, and the soft rap or tap he delivered was embarrassing enough to make her want to try harder.  He said he would show her blocks eventually, but that dodging was more likely to help, considering her size.  Speed was more important than strength, and it was likely that blocking a blow would cause pain even when successful, he said, so evasion was more useful.  The little reflex and balance games he would play with her were supposed to help in the same way, for all that she lamented that she would _never_ beat him. 

            Besides fast, however, Odin was _quiet_ … and part of the games also had to do with avoiding his impromptu ambushes.  He’d said something about honing her senses, or her instincts- 

            The hair on the back of her neck rose suddenly, and she ducked down in her seat as a hand swiped at where her head had been.  Her virtual brother made an amused/pleased sort of sound, and she couldn’t help but grin at him as she sat upright again.  Her heart was pounding, but she’d gotten that feeling he’d been trying to explain to her for weeks – had really realized what he _meant_ about focusing and listening for what you couldn’t hear. 

            _...and I still can’t explain it any better than he did, so okay, fair._  

            “You’re learning,” he decided, his eyes shining with what she’d come to learn was excitement.  His grin was smug, which she couldn’t help but return; his obvious pride in her success only amped her own.  Glancing at her hands and nodding a little to himself, he held up a small pail that almost looked as if it was from a child’s beach play set; steam was rising from it.  Setting it down on the hotel room desk she was sitting at, he advised, “If they hurt, try soaking them.  Until you build up the calluses, it’s probably a good idea.” 

            Marlé nodded easily, easing one hand into the slightly too hot water, wanting to grimace and sigh happily at the same time.  The heat would probably work much better than what she had been attempting.  “Thanks.” 

            He nodded amicably, focusing on the laptop she had been fiddling with.  “We have a few more hours until the night shift goes in.  What were you doing?” 

-

***

-

**August 30 th 197 ** **– Wednesday – Munich, Germany**

            Relena smiled a little to herself as Jerome muttered a not terribly nice comment under his breath about the neighborhood, watching Jake shake his head from the corner of her eye.  He seemed more amused than anything, and didn’t call out his man like he probably would have under a normal circumstance. 

            Lin grinned broadly and waggled his eyebrows in a comical gesture, and she bit back a wider grin.  He, at least, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying their, ah… _escapade_ into the underbelly of Munich. 

            Jake’s reaction at her request had been similar… and she wondered if he had planned to suggest such forays in the near future.  She had come to find more and more over the past few weeks that he and she were of like enough mind to have the same or at least similar goals in mind.  The difference between them lay in experience, which he was trying to give her at a rate he deemed to be well enough paced that it wouldn’t make her unbearably uncomfortable. 

            On some level, that rankled; she wasn’t a child.  Alternately, her request today had proven he was willing to compromise if she wanted to push the envelope a little harder.  In light of exactly how swiftly he had managed to get her unrecognizable in flannel-lined jeans, a dark sweater, and her hair tucked up in style of brimmed hat that seemed popular here? How he had detailed a contingent of the bodyguards into happily passing themselves as a group of friends?  Not to mention how quickly he had taken them from the boutique shops into the dark bowels of the ancient city… 

            She was realizing his usual gradient of acclimation was a luxury she had taken for granted.  As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she probably would have freaked out if he’d dropped her into a setting like this without warning.  Stepping outside her immediate comfort zone was well worth the effort, though.  It was, as it had ever been during the war, both exhilarating and uplifting as she knew she was taking another necessary step towards her goals, gaining another edge. 

            The sun had just gone down, and twilight probably wouldn’t fade for another hour or so.  Despite her wool sweater, she shivered… and a coat was settling around her shoulders.  She grinned back at Jake’s easy smile, pulling the edges together and keeping her arms crossed instead of putting them through the sleeves of the bulky garment.  “Thank-you.” 

            He winked at her and put an arm around her waist.  “No problem.”  Relena kept walking, changing her pace to match his better through her stomach’s flip-flops, though she was pleased to realize that the nervousness was from the motion overall and someone being in such close proximity, _not_ because it was Jake.  They were posing for anyone who might be watching, and he’d warned her of his ‘role’ beforehand; playing the boyfriend allowed him to stay closer and be overly protective without seeming out of place. 

            _I’m finally over it,_ she congratulated herself.  The majority of the embarrassing crush had faded away shortly after he’d become her bodyguard, and Dorothy’s daily running commentary had been stomping out what was left.  He was her friend now, and the fact that the physical touch hadn’t set her heart racing was incredibly relieving.  It was more pleasant than she could have imagined to simply be this comfortable in the presence of a man that…  

            _Well._   She supposed it was the calm confidence he and the other men exuded that made them so different from those she had regularly interacted with during the war.  Heero had had a similar effect on her by the time he came for her on _Libra_ , but… this was different. 

            In all reality, she was willing to admit that she had barely known Heero.  He had darted in and out of her life in brief moments that felt like eternity, but were still only just that – moments.  In contrast, she bickered with Jake over breakfast and tactics and _hair clips_.  He slept yards away from her, she knew his favorite foods and routines, and unlike every other man in her life before now, _he never made her feel small_.  The rest of their group today, she knew less well, but she had made inroads of friendship with each all the same… and knowing that Jake trusted them made her relax. 

            This halo of protection was far less tenuous… and it was only now that she knew what it felt like to feel perfectly safe in German slums that she could tell that the security she’d found in Heero’s presence had offered was only the first tier of the sensation.  Here, she felt as though she might as well be ensconced in her father’s favorite armchair reading – before they went to the colonies right before her fifteenth birthday, where they had survived the botched assassination attempt on her father.  Before she’d seen Heero’s gundam falling to the Earth under the guise of a meteor, and begun to realize how purposefully ignorant her family kept her. 

            It was striking and relieving all at once, this strange dichotomy. 

            “There’s some nasty rumors going around,” Jake muttered seriously in her ear, though like when he reprimanded his men in public, his expression was jovial, secretive as would be appropriate for muttering in your girlfriend’s ear.  His face rarely stopped matching the role he was playing, and his voice only carried as far as he wanted it to.  Lincoln, walking close to her other side, could hear him she was fairly sure, but not Jerome or Cassidy. 

            “Yeah?” she muttered, looking at him from the corner of her eye and answering his grin with one of her own without thinking. 

            “When the economy bottoms out, old traditions sometimes come back,” he continued, though there was a slight hitch in his voice.  “I’m still not sure how isolated the cases are, but this city seems to house a fair number of people with… brands.”  When she didn’t respond right away, trying to follow his meaning, he explained.  “From hot metal, Princess, like you mark cattle… escapees from something.” 

            Her heart plummeted into her stomach.  “Escapees?” she whispered. 

            “Try to keep smiling…  From some form of slave trade or sweat shops, by what I’ve been able to gather.”  He leaned back a little and met her eyes.  “I was thinking to look into it a little; find a talkative runaway instead of trying to track by pure rumor.” 

            She nodded numbly, trying to get her head around the horror of the idea.  “All right.”  Dimly, she acknowledged to herself that he wasn’t shielding her from the unseemly anymore… 

            But she couldn’t decide whether she was thankful, or whether she wanted to throw up. 

-

***

-

            Jake smiled and waved when he caught sight of Caleb, ignoring the little gasp of surprise Lin gave.  _Good, he recognizes the same face from day to day,_ he mused dryly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.  Lincoln was a good man, a decent soldier, but sometimes his memory for detail was more or less random. 

            The little boy grinned broadly before running towards them, and a few words called over his shoulder had the rest of the children’s curiosity transforming to excitement, though they were more cautious than the little boy he had first fed then had Lincoln buy food for his whole crew yesterday.  He had helped the boy take the sandwiches home to stash, but the others hadn’t been there. 

            He’d left the boy alone to settle back in and have his friends hail him as a hero for the sandwiches, but he had spent a fair part of his off time last night tracking down any reasons a five-year-old had a strange but distinct symbol burned into the flesh where his neck and shoulder joined.  His neck, arms and face had tiny little scars here and there, as if he’d been splattered with some kind of liquid or oil hot leave permanent marks – though one of the burns on his arm looked as though it might be from a cigarette.  That last could be familial abuse, which was less of a concern since the boy was clearly an orphan.  Seen individually, he could find logical reasons for most of scars – accidents with hot liquids could happen.  

            But all together, and with the _brand_? 

            Caleb wasn’t the only child this was happening to.  He was under the impression that the boy was no longer in the situation where he had been injured – his behavior didn’t fit – but he was hoping to get a few clues from him about where he had escaped from. 

            _If he remembers._   If he didn’t, Jake had no intention of digging; the mind generally had good reason when it suppressed a memory. 

            Relena knelt, greeting the little boy happily, and he basked in the attention.  Jake found himself smiling without effort; he couldn’t have been in trouble for too long, to take so easily to them as he did… though Relena was something else again, if he was going to be honest. 

            “You’re the one Cale met yesterday?” 

            Jake nodded, shifting his attention to the older boy he had noticed approaching.  He hid his frown at finding the same scar on the same place as Caleb.  Stretching out his hand to shake and crouching a little, he settled an honest expression on his face.  “I’m Jake.” 

            “Hans,” the serious nine or ten-year-old said simply, shaking the hand.  His eyes shifted quickly over to Relena and Caleb, then back.  “Thank-you.” 

            “It was nothing,” Jake dismissed, stepping back slightly while keeping his body language open, vulnerable, and saw Hans relax slightly.  Hiding his self-satisfied smirk – that would ruin what he’d just managed – he said, “This is my friend Lena, and these two are Lin and Cassidy.”  Jerome was staying a ways back, keeping watch from the direction that had come through, incase this alley was a dead end.  He didn’t expect anything to go wrong, they were merely visiting a group of children… but as was obvious by the boys’ necks, there were many less pure individuals in this city.  Jerome was the best fighter outside himself in this little group, and third overall, just behind Mitchell; he would keep at least one route open for escape if somehow everything went to hell. 

            As it was, he turned an easy smile on the rest of the children there.  Caleb was probably the youngest, Hans the oldest, but there were four others, just as the boy had told him at lunch yesterday. 

            If both boys were escaped from the same group or organization, than it both made more sense and widened the range of how far they had come; a ten-year-old could travel much further than a boy five years his junior.  While that made his self-imposed mission harder in some ways, Hans _would_ remember the details, provided he could convince the boy to divulge them. 

            For now, he needed to get him comfortable enough with their presence to stop seeing them as a potential threat. 

-

***

-

**China**

            Wufei rolled his eyes slightly, casually flipping off Cái as he grabbed the already moving lift.  The other man protested in an amused sort of sputter, and cupped his hands around his mouth to call after him.  “You’re just scared!” 

            “I see no reason to commit time to something that I doubt I will find even _remotely_ enjoyable,” the ex-gundam pilot returned coolly.  He flipped the switch on the pull for it to stop rising, and leaned hard to one side to catch his other foot on the edge of the machine he wanted to inspect.  The pull riser was nearly identical to the one he had on Nataku, which he genuinely found comforting… and had everyone else on the project either staring in awe or spluttering in horror at the stunts he was known to do on them. 

            Obviously, they had never had someone shooting at them while trying to rise to the cockpit of a mobile suit.  They were sitting ducks when they clung to the harnesses they attached… 

            …but the purpose here _was_ simply construction. 

            “Wufei!” 

            He hummed slightly to himself, securing the foot of the pull and stepping lightly onto the edge of the amplifier.  His shoes came off easily, and his socks – with small rubber pads to prevent him from skidding – were perfect for up here.  He wanted to do one more inspection of the actual mechanism that Shui altered in the last design before they tested it. 

            “Wufei!  Listen to me, dammit, or I’m turning it on while you’re up there!” 

            _For someone more than five years older than myself, he certainly could act more mature,_ Wufei thought irritably, folding into an easy crouch next to one of Shui’s ‘flowers.’  _Damn._   It wasn’t the leader of this quad…  He glanced around the others nearby, looking for the identical device that had a control panel on it. 

            “Come on!  You need to get out!” 

            “I have work to do,” he replied distractedly, finding what he wanted and making his way over to it. 

            “Fei!  You haven’t been to a single party this last whole year!”

            _May I continue to be so blessed,_ Wufei thought sarcastically to himself.  He had _no_ desire to go have his ears deafened or to rub bodies with who _knew_ who in an attempt to…   _What was it?_   “I have perfectly satisfactory proof of my humanity as it stands,” he called back to Cái. 

            “You work too much!” Cái protested. 

            “You’re lazy,” he retorted under his breath… though from Cái’s annoyed huff he had heard anyhow. 

            “It’s almost done,” the man practically whined less than a minute later. 

            Wufei growled in annoyance.  “Yes, and the sooner it’s done, the sooner it gets sent out to people who _need_ it!” he snapped.  “Either get out or make yourself useful.” 

            He wasn’t sure how so many of the people on the project took their jobs so nonchalantly.  Every minute of work was quite directly saving the crops, saving millions from death by starvation… yet it seemed like Shui was the only other one who took their ‘cushy’ job and lifestyle merely as a reason to work harder; to come up with more stable and efficient designs, then get testing underway and finished with as quickly as possible. 

            “Shui!  You _have_ to come out with me!” 

            “I do?” 

            “Yes, you do.” 

            Wufei snorted; Shui was more of a shut-in than _he_ was.  “It’s an opium den!” he called down. 

            “It is _not_!” Cái protested. 

            “Full of scantily clad hookers!” 

            Shui laughed; another pull cord started twitching as he presumably put his foot in the sling and started fiddling with his harness.  “Are they drunk enough to keep me for free?” he joked. 

            “Probably not _that_ drunk,” Wufei returned dryly, rolling his eyes.  “After all, most of them have children that they need to feed.” 

            “Support the economy!” Cái suggested laughingly. 

            Wufei growled, but Shui answered for him.  “I have no interest in supporting _that_ part of the economy.”  His tone was serious and affected their coworker in a way Wufei’s shouting never could.  He shrugged off the quiet apology and activated the lift. 

            Wufei raised his head as Shui came into view, swinging onto the ledge of the heat amplifier with _fairly_ practiced ease, coming a few steps on before starting to unbuckle his harness. 

            “Pussy,” he noted. 

            Shui didn’t even pause in his motions.  “Asshole,” he returned distractedly. 

            Wufei smirked; his relationship with Shui was one he could appreciate.  He was roughly a year older than himself, with the same propensity Wufei’s instructors had always called ‘genius,’ only Shui had never left school, even when the war had gotten into full swing.  He also had never gone beyond the basics of physical training, so while he knew how to settle his weight, he had that common academic awkwardness that most scholars couldn’t shake off. 

            Cái was obnoxious, Kailì was too old to relate to easily, with his wife and school age daughters… and Sovann either had Turret’s Syndrome or made his own interpersonal skills look absolutely _golden_.  The five of them led the program, give or take, each taking turns in the spotlight with new designs… though most of Relena Peacecraft’s ‘rewards’ for machines with increased usability had gone to him and Shui. 

            Despite having to move out of the city during her visit, due to either the Chinese government’s paranoia that Zechs was all seeing or lack of confidence in his ability to stay out of sight – though he admitted now that it might be due to the damn woman’s propensity to take unexpected action – he had been forced to leave the city and hide out in a nearby town… where that farmer had thought he was trying to steal his apples, or something.  Once Peacecraft had headed back to Europe, however, he had settled into an assigned apartment with Shui, and it had been pretty much smooth sailing since. 

            No more conflict for now, and he was simply in a contract with the Chinese government and _had_ conditions under which he could duck out; or he could just finish the time he’d agreed to for his services on the heat amplifier project.  Nataku wasn’t hidden anywhere that she ought to be found by _any_ government, and his work was too valuable for the Chinese to pry, now. 

            He enjoyed his work here, especially after Peacecraft had come and gone; his life had _meaning_.  There was no question of right or wrong: he was making it possible for a majority of the population to _survive_ the fallout years, and probably beyond.  Additionally, there was no threat to him here – only a select few knew his name and none outside the province. 

            This was the kind of work he had dreamed of, before Master Shirin called him back from school in place of his dead father, and informed him in no uncertain terms that he was to marry the master’s great-granddaughter, Long Meilan.  Of course, he had thought it would be more related to the colonies, but after the debacle of the war… 

            Really, the only thing that made him want to keep his attention trained on back in the rest of the world was the fact that everyone seemed to be convinced that he had slain Treize – something he pointedly remembered not doing in a moment of mixed panic and mercy.  The old conspirator was up to something yet again, but instead of angry, he felt… almost _excited_.  He had realized none of his rage against Treize Khushrenada was actually warranted – the events that had led to Meilan’s death had relatively little to do with the man – and that Khushrenada was actually a clear-cut example of what his family would have wanted him to become; though he debated if he would ever fulfill that role. 

            Treize was up to something… and experience suggested that only time would tell what.  Some part of him wanted to go snatch up Nataku and prowl the European continent looking for him just to demand what he had his hands in now, to see if perhaps it was worth aiding as a pilot… 

            …but the calmer part of himself, the more patient side he had been cultivating over the past year held him back.  He was happy here, he had realized… even with only his fellow engineers for company.  There were a few martial artists around that he practiced with periodically, for all that none of them came close to his level… and what he was doing was helping everyone who had survived his failure at _Libra_.  This was atonement… 

            …and he was _enjoying_ it. 

-

***

-

**Munich, Germany**

            “You look like the princess,” Carey decided, staring at me in pure admiration. 

            I smiled at her, winking.  “I get that a lot.”  _Of course, it probably helps that **am** the princess._   Jake chuckled softly, and I very pointedly turned and raised my eyebrows at him.  His not quite devious smile made me shake my head. 

            _Honestly, what else am I supposed to say?_  

            I frowned slightly as I saw him nudge Lincoln and flash a few hand signals in such a way that the children couldn’t see what he was doing.  There was no reason for him to be communicating like that unless something was wrong…  Well, more wrong than the marks on the necks of the two boys.  Jake had organized this before we came upon the little ones so that it would run smoothly- 

            “’Rome hasn’t called me yet,” he muttered, apparently having caught where my attention was. 

            Alarm bells started going off in my head.  Jerome should have been checking in through the tiny chip hidden in the colonel’s ear; the mic hidden in the collar of his shirt was equally discreet.  “Maybe he got distracted,” I suggested. 

            He bit his lip.  “It’s not like him to run so far behind.” 

            My frown deepened.  _How late are we talking?_  

            “Hey, guys, I’ve gotta run,” Lin announced, grimacing a little. 

            _He’s sending Lincoln to check it out._   I wasn’t exactly sure how weighted the significance of that was, however.  We’d been here for over an hour.  We all muttered our good-byes to Lin, and I focused back on the two little girls who were so thoroughly enthralled with me.  I knew my friend too well by now, however, to miss the slowly building tension in his frame, as if he were coiling, getting ready to spring. 

            I was sitting on a stoop with Jake and Hans, watching the younger ones play with a baseball we had brought with us, when it seemed as though everything happened at once.  A sedan with darkly tinted windows was ambling by, and a van behind it.  There was little traffic in the area, but two vehicles were hardly out of place in the slow flow of commerce.  When I saw a few men walking down the street, it didn’t immediately register that they must have dropped off the opposite side of the van. 

            By the time the larger vehicle abruptly stopped and the doors flew open, the five children playing in the street had been snatched.  I sat frozen as I saw Jake from the corner of my eye practically throw Hans as he struggled to stand quickly, seeing as the boy had been resting against his knees.  Cassidy had immediately tried to jump after them as the men leapt into the now open van doors, and had taken a solid hit to the head, he was stumbling…  The tires screeched as both car and van speeded off. 

            “Oh my God…” 

            Hans was rising to his feet.  “No!” he cried, starting to run after the van.  His voice was heartbreaking.  “No, you can’t!” 

            “Fuck,” Jake snapped, his eyes darting everywhere at once before settling on Cassidy.  “Stay here,” he hissed at me before running to assess the condition of his man. 

            “I’m getting Hans,” I returned quickly and he nodded slightly as he ran, and I went after the lone boy… just in time to see the vehicle turn the corner. 

            “No!”  He was shrieking now.  “You can’t do this, you can’t, it’s not fair!”  He was collapsing in the street, staring out at nothing in despair. 

            Something about the scene pulled at me.  I remembered the explosion that killed my father, and the men hustling him and I into a van to escape the scene.  _Was that what I would have looked like, had they left me instead?_   This was hardly the same, the men very obviously were _not_ acting in the children’s best interests – then again, my own rescuers hadn’t had my well-being in mind either – and Hans’ reaction suggested it might be whoever had branded him. 

            This was possibly the best lead we would ever get… 

            “Lena!” 

            I turned at Jake’s call, and saw him gesturing at me.  “We need to get back, I’m cut off from ‘Rome and Lin _both_ , you’re not safe.”  Continuing to steady Cass, he started giving him instructions, but I cut him off. 

            “What about them?!” I demanded, gesturing in the direction the van had gone. 

            His eyes locked on Hans’ now sobbing form, and it was with visible effort that he tore them away.  When he met my gaze again, I could see something burning there…  “My first priority is _you_ ,” he informed me quietly. 

            I continued to study his eyes, shoving down my anger at his argument.  There was something there…  _Anger._   It was another moment before I saw what I was looking for.  _Anguish… he doesn’t want to do this.  He **wants** to go after them, I know he does…_  

 _Duty._   I blinked as that last piece fit in, then grinned at him, pulling out my phone and starting to run after the van.  He had to do his duty to me, and before all else he was a man that lived by his own personal code, much like my brother or Heero.  He had decided that my safety came before anything else, and he wasn’t going to back down from that stance any more than Noin would have. 

            My protection was his priority… but it wasn’t mine.  And he had also promised to help me bring the world back to a decent standard. 

            “Cass got the plate, he’s calling it in,” Jake muttered, suddenly at my side. 

            “Good.”  I didn’t slow down.  I was beyond exhilarated, and it wasn’t just the adrenaline.  He was following me, and not just to tuck me away pretty so I wouldn’t get hurt – he was here to help.  _He and Noin really **were** friends._  

            His chuckle was disbelieving, and I dared a glance at him before we ran around the corner the van had turned.  The torment was gone from his eyes, replaced by something akin to wonder.  I flipped open my phone and handed it to him.  “Chopper,” I forced out quickly.  I wasn’t going to pretend I could sprint and talk at the same time. 

            Those blue eyes glinted in a dangerous but excited sort of way as, instead of taking the phone, he grabbed my wrists and somehow hoisted me onto his back without breaking our run.  “You call one,” he returned, going faster now despite my added weight.  “Knees forward, ankles back and crossed.” 

            I set my legs into the variation of piggyback he suggested, guessing that it interfered less with his speed, and wrapped one arm around his shoulders, keeping my chest tucked tight against his back.  I started searching through my numbers with my other hand.  I wanted a chopper to keep an eye on the van from above if we really lost them, though I was beginning to wonder if I’d underestimated Jake again. 

-

***

-

**L2**

            Leia sighed a little, waving to the nurse’s station as she left. 

            “Good night, Dr. Keissler,” a volunteer called happily. 

            “Good night,” she returned tiredly, shifting her bag’s strap on her shoulder as the automatic emergency room doors opened for her.  Outside, the colony lamps were dark, signaling the wee hours of the morning.  This was part of the L2 cluster, and while not as nice as the L3 cluster where she had grown up, it was certainly not as bad as her father had made it out to be, growing up. 

            She sighed again as she started the walk home.  It was hardly a home, really… she slept there and occasionally made herself a meal, but sometimes she would even just sleep on a spare hospital bed like she was still a resident.  All the rest of her time was spent at the hospital, not so much because it was necessary – though the staff likely appreciated it – but because if she kept busy, she didn’t have to think. 

            She didn’t have to wonder where Marie had disappeared to. 

            Now that she finally could call herself financially independent of her father – had even changed her name _again_ to cement the fact – and had enough time to actually keep track of her child, she’d intended to bring her to live with her there on L2, away from what remained of her family and their influence.  She had had half designed plans running with Marie’s nanny for years, and had been excited that it was finally all coming to fruition.  The condo she had bought had a room she’d started to mentally decorate for her daughter; they hadn’t been talking as much while she was slammed between both the endless work of a resident and her grief over the news of Treize’s death, but enough was enough.  It still hurt to have her lasting hope for years, that they might be together again ripped away, but she still had Marie, at least. 

            Or so she had thought until she had called Meagan both for ideas on what colors Marie would like to paint the walls and to make the rest of the arrangements, only to find that the number had been disconnected.  Upon further investigation, the small manor her daughter and a slew of servants had been living in was for sale, and the school’s records of her child had disappeared. 

            So much for maternal rights. 

            It hadn’t been a stretch of the imagination that her father had taken Marie for some reason; one undoubtedly _not_ beneficial to her little girl.  She had hired a damn good lawyer, who eager for the prospect of the publicity the case would get alone, when her private investigator had stumbled on the latest shame of the Barton family. 

            _Some days, I wonder how our name had managed to become so respected as it is.  I really do._  

            The fact that he’d been using his granddaughter as a symbol of _Treize_ was downright sickening, considering how much he had _hated_ the Khushrenadas.  She still wasn’t sure how he had found out who Mariemaia’s father was, other than the fact that she must have slipped up somewhere after all.  _Not that it matters now.  All those years of trying to mislead my father or staying away from Treize for his protection, and he died anyway…_   Closing her eyes, she fought back the tears. 

            Life was just no _fucking_ fair. 

            She had a few of the best investigators she could find hunting for Marie now, and in the aftermath of Dekim’s fall she had had both high hopes and worries that the Regime would refuse to let her keep custody next.  Now, after almost two months of hearing absolutely nothing at all, she was starting to come undone.  Treize was dead… was her daughter as well, now?  Was another group preparing to use her? 

            _Will I ever get to keep someone I love?_  

-

***

-

**Munich, Germany**

            Coming across a dead end, Jake spat out something that I was pretty sure contained profanity, though I had no idea what language it was in.  It had been a good idea to cut through a few alleys when he was reasonably sure of what main roads they would stick to for the next few minutes, but I had to agree with him here. 

            His eyes were livid, and he seemed torn… and for a split second, he reminded me of the gundam boys.  Looking towards the wall, I remembered a few of the things I’d seen Heero do.  “Can you get over that wall, on your own?” 

            He looked over his shoulder at me, eyes narrowed, before nodding. 

            I immediately let go of him and dropped to the ground, relieving the muscles that had been cramping from holding my place on his back.  “I’ll wait here.”  He hesitated, looking ready to argue, but I narrowed my eyes right back at him and snapped, “They’re going to get away, go!” 

            Again, that not quite wondering look… and then he was down the alley, on a doorway to our right, on top of the wall at the back of the path, grabbing onto a _window_ on the right building, then pulling himself up onto the roof… and gone into the gloom. 

            _Well, **I** feel inadequate._   Crossing my arms, I considered the area around me.  There were trash bins by the back doors to the buildings on either side, but no sign of anything else.  Sighing a little, I pulled out my phone again and started flipping through numbers, wondering if there was anything else I could do… to see that Lin’s cell was listed.  _Wow, what a stupid thing to forget about,_ I grumped silently, hitting send and jamming my free hand into my jacket pocket…  and finding cold metal. 

            My eyes widened.  I was still wearing Jake’s coat… and if I had his gun, then what was he going to do once he caught up to the van? 

            Muttering a few dark words myself, though mine were all perfectly English, I ran back out the mouth of the alley and in the direction we’d agreed the van would be heading. 

-

***

-

            “Hello?  Lena?  Miss Relena?  Jake?”  Lincoln turned wide eyes to Jerome.  “What the _fuck_?” 

            It had taken a while to find Jerome, much to Lin’s embarrassment, largely because of the twilight and because he did _not_ have a knack for faces…  Jerome was usually on night shift while he was on day, and apparently they were both dressed and moving too casually for the other to pick up.  It hardly helped assuaged pride that it was their own training that had goofed them up; it hadn’t been until it occurred to Lincoln that ‘that guy’ had been spending an awfully long time talking to the cashier in the little convenience store pharmacy that they’d managed to find each other. 

            Rome had blinked then hailed him as ‘the guy he’d been waiting for’ before offering a good-bye to the clerk, and they’d ducked back into the increasing darkness to sort out that apparently nothing was wrong with Jerome’s radio, for all intensive purposes…  Though they weren’t hearing anything from Jake after confirming safe status on either communicator.  Unable to decide whether the colonel simply felt that answering would blow his cover or if something really _was_ wrong with the transponders, they had decided to have Lin run back on the claim of having forgotten something… 

            …to find a hysterical little boy. 

            He had tried radioing back to Jerome, secrecy be damned… but the transmission hadn’t gone through. 

            _Why the **hell** does someone have a scrambler up in the area?_ he’d demanded of himself furiously as he raced back toward his teammate.  It was the only explanation he could think of, exempting the fact that it was either a rather expensive piece of equipment or someone who really knew their electronics being overly paranoid in the area.  He had every intention of telling his commander once they _found_ the damn colonel and princess, and they could start working out if the scrambler was due to paranoia or a plot, but _dammit_ , why did every bit of weirdness have to crop up the moment they didn’t go strictly by the book? 

            _We are **so** dead,_ he brooded now, staring at the phone.  He just hoped it was Jake threatening to flay him for leaving him slack to pick up, and that he wouldn’t soon be running from an enraged prince. 

            “It’s still connected,” Rome muttered a moment later, starting to dig in his pockets. 

            “At least we’re out of the range of whatever it was before,” Lin agreed, watching the seconds continue to toll by on his phone.  Jerome had a little device he’d hacked together that let him track a phone call… useless compared to the complex versions the normal military might use, but good for short distances, and therefore endlessly practical for pranks in college, as he had once explained. 

            He handed over the cell when Jerome held out a hand, and accepted the man’s cell in return as he ordered, “Call Mitchell for backup.” 

-

***

-

            It was luck, pure and simple, that had me come back onto main streets completely away from where I had intended to end up, I was sure, to find the van stopping at a light.  Jake had had a point; once they had made their initial getaway, it would make more sense to slow down and draw as little attention as possible.  It was a white, unmarked van, and for a second I thought it was too good to be true… 

            But that _was_ the same sedan right in front of it; I’d actually recognized the make when it had driven by the first time. 

            For a moment, I had no idea what I should do, and I couldn’t help but glance up, thinking Jake would be there any moment… 

            …but we had thought that the kidnappers would head in a more populated direction than this.  It was purely by accident that I had been turned around in a few twisty alleys and ended up here instead of closer to my bodyguard.  He could be on the next building over, or blocks away. 

            The light would change soon. 

            I had seen three men snatch up the five young children, and the doors had been opened _for_ them, so there were four or five kidnappers in the back of the van, and at least one person driving in front… and not even counting the man I had in the driver’s seat of the sedan. 

            That dismissed any idea of mimicking Heero’s hijacking of the ambulance I had called him that day on the beach, if I’d had the strength and gumption to even do so in the first place.  There were simply too many people, even if I managed the element of surprise. 

            _Maybe if I just opened the back and…  And **what**?_   I was all too aware of my lack of training in firing _any_ gun, let alone what such an accomplished soldier as Colonel Jake Miller, part-time _Spiderman_ would carry.  Biting back my breath, I ducked low and approached the van, hoping they wouldn’t see me in the side mirrors, and stood against the back of the van, waiting, even remembering to make a gesture like I was knocking for the benefit of the person who had driven up behind me.  I still had no idea what exactly I was planning when the vehicle started to move away from me and I grabbed hold of the handle on the back door, pulling myself up onto the hitch. 

            _Thank goodness it was locked,_ I realized as we drove away. 

-

***

-

            “Miller.” 

            _“Is there any particular reason Sobrie is practically in hysterics?”_

            “The situation is unstable; fast decisions were necessary.”  David’s silence was telling, but then, that was probably due to his tone. 

            _“Is there any particular reason you forgot that you all possessed **cell phones** , Colonel?”  _

            “…Lack of regular use.” 

            His old friend made an annoyed sort of noise.  _“Remedy that once we’re done, would you?  What **are** you doing?”_  

            “Unknown persons kidnapped the children in a plain, unmarked van,” he continued formally, reaching a good viewpoint and suppressing his urge to growl in annoyance when he couldn’t catch a glimpse of the vehicle.  “The princess insisted on pursuit.  Foreman received a blow to the head in the altercation and notified local authorities of the incident and vehicle identification numbers before seeking out the local pharmacy.” 

            He could almost hear David clench his teeth, but they had long agreed that the frame of mind was both inevitable and generally beneficial, so he doubted the other man would get into an argument about it with him.  _“Mode of transportation?”_ he asked instead. 

            Jake frowned; Dave was _worried_ if he had decided to slip into the same speech patterns.  The idea was to keep at optimum efficiency on Jake’s end, which was a subtle cue that he ought to do anything necessary to achieve perfection in his objectives.  _What is he concerned about?_   “Foot, free-running.”  _Ah._   “The princess required she be left at approximately 83rd and Hickam for sake of the pursuit.” 

            _“Princess located at approximately 98 th and Markt, moving northeast at traffic speed, tracked by Jerome,”_ Mitchell reported tersely. 

            He felt his eyes narrow, and he quickly started moving again, in a different direction.  “Operations yellow and _white_ ,” he snapped out the regulations they needed to follow.  _Drain the tubs, but don’t tell._   “Convene pursuit of priority.”  He bit his lip slightly, mentally shaking himself _hard_ ; Mitchell didn’t appreciate some of his habits but knew how to handle them, while the boys were new and might misinterpret.  “Lincoln and Jerome are partnered?” 

            _“Yes.”_

            “Have them call me once you update them.”  Kicking off one rooftop, he tucked the phone against his chest and rolled off the force of the impact, coming back to his feet and continuing to sprint without break.  Bringing the phone back up, he challenged, “See if you can’t beat me to her.” 

            _“Was starting to wonder if you’d ever ask,”_ Mitchell purred. 

            “For the record, you creep me out.”  Dave was verging on _shy_ until he got his feet wet; then he enjoyed wreaking mayhem far too much. 

            _“You creep **me** out,”_ he returned in that…  It made his skin crawl because whenever the man did it, if he didn’t already know his full meaning he’d _swear_ he was trying to talk dirty. 

            “I hate you.” 

            _“Only because I’m going to win,”_ he returned in that same tone, so that he almost expected him to add ‘bitch’ on at the end.  He heard an engine rev.  _“I’m calling your boys… mine are already dancing.”_  

            _Forming a net._   Jake crossed to another building.  As much as he disliked David’s ‘battle persona,’ as some might call it, he functioned better under it, and couldn’t slide in and out the way the blonde could force himself.  _Just the same…_   “Make sure they understand you don’t want to _molest_ them,” he growled. 

            Dave just laughed…  and Jake hung up. 

-

***

-

**Somewhere in the Sahara Desert**

            Nick jumped hard when he heard the soft sound of cloth on cloth, then settled quickly when he saw who it was. 

            How the man managed to move silently on _sand_ was beyond him. 

            “Boo,” Robby muttered in amusement, coming even with him and sitting with one leg bent, the other sprawled. 

            Nick rolled his eyes, focusing back on the dark night sky.  The contrast with the pale sands, lit by moonlight, was beautiful, really…  And it was hard to find anything beautiful anymore. 

            “Wishing you had your camera again?” 

            He smiled a bit, shaking his head.  “Always.”  He’d told Robby about how he’d just finished his first semester of university for photography when _Libra_ fell… and even though the world wasn’t as dead as the predictions had suggested, it had still fallen apart, and his life along with it. 

            Now… now it was about making it from day to day without getting yourself killed.  And it was a lot harder than he had ever imagined it could be, though Robby seemed to have it down well enough. 

            Then again, that was the reason he was more or less in charge: before he’d come, there had been little to no guarantee you’d survive the day, let alone the week.  Nick had barely been making it, keeping out of the heavier end of group politics.  Then Robby had arrived and started organizing them – made their lot in life a hard and detestable job instead of sheer chaos.  He had slowly begun to weed out the more dangerous men and take charge, leveled the playing field a bit, started giving rewards and punishments as he saw fit… 

            He was keeping them human, making an honest effort with the faction he called his own to keep them alive, healthy, and maybe even happy.  He cut anyone who started to show a true passion for causing others pain; he allowed the rush of adrenaline, and seemed to be cultivating more vices than the cigarettes he was now offering Nick, but he only allowed minimal degrees of sadism in those falling loyal to him.  The man was very much insane in his own peculiar fashion, and could be just as frightening as the true commanders, though; Nick was relatively sure that it was simply his possessiveness that kept him interested in them. 

            This was a strangely soft moment, enjoying the rise of the moon together…  Robby would save you in a fight, provided you weren’t sliding back into the beliefs imposed by the group, but this was different.  For once, the man didn’t terrify him on some level.  This uncharacteristically easy personality was as stark a contrast to his usual sharpness as the sky and sand, but comforting in the same way the scene before them was beautiful.  They were in a fight to stay human, here in this hot hell…  And it was somehow comforting to see him come out of his shell for once. 

            “Do you miss home?” Nick asked quietly. 

            Robby’s response was to smack him upside the head, hard… but not so hard that the world swam, like it usually would.  “Stupid question.” 

            Grimacing, Nick held a hand to the spot, supposing it had been.  He accepted a light from his friend, inhaling deeply and just trying to let it all go as he blew the smoke back out.  Everything he’d seen that day… the horrible shit he’d done.  It was best to just let it all go, he’d learned… try to forget.  They were slaves, here, whatever they were told, with no real chance of escape outside of death.  Robby only had the loyalty of maybe a quarter of their encampment, and there were other camps, older ones that were more loyal to the ideals, that would think nothing of gunning them down should their subversion come to light… and there was nothing but desert for miles in every direction. 

            They were damned, in a hell nearly as true as any biblical version, forced to enforce and impose the same hell on others… but no one wants to die.  And some days, there was even a little hope for escape.  Turning back to Rob, Nick noted, “I want a cola.” 

            “Tch.”  Tossing his ponytail back over his shoulder and leaning back, he blew out his own stream of smoke.  “I want a pony.” 

            Nick grinned at that… and focused back on the moon. 

-

***

-

**Munich, Germany**

            It was full dark now, which in some ways was a blessing, Relena supposed, as it would be hard to see her… but there still remained the fact that she was hanging onto the back of a van for dear life and still had no idea how to fix the problem.  Letting go just wasn’t an option… but she didn’t dare loosen her grip so she could try calling one of her bodyguards again. 

            _Hopefully Jake knows what he’s doing…_   The deeper she got into this, the more apparent it became that _she_ certainly didn’t.  _He should get here soon, right?_   It was strangely humbling, terrifying, and exciting all at the same time. 

            Just the same, she certainly wouldn’t mind a rescue, at this point.  Her hands were _really_ beginning to hurt. 

            There was a sort of shifting sensation in the door, and a shout… and suddenly the door was flying open.  She completely lost her handhold, finding herself flying backwards as someone tumbled out the now open doors.  Feeling as if everything was moving in slow motion, she wrapped her arms around the child crashing into her and tucked her head down, closing her eyes as she held him tight against her chest- 

            She couldn’t help but cry out as her shoulder hit the pavement, but she didn’t let go as she continued her painful roll, protecting the child she’d saved from the impact.  They were lucky that this wasn’t a very busy street, and all they had to deal with was the speed of impact, and not traffic.  They would probably both be dead if that were the case, or if the van had been going faster. 

            “Are you okay?” she asked once they had stopped.  Her voice was teary; she didn’t know if she had _ever_ felt this bad.  Whichever child she had managed to save was shaking badly, but so was she.  Trying to swallow her tears, she tried again.  “Are you hurt?” 

            They jerked hard as if in shock, then pulled away enough to look at her.  It was Caleb, the first with the brand.  He looked seconds away from crying, and she pulled him roughly back against her chest, rubbing his back.  “It’s okay, you’re safe now, sweetie…” 

            He started shaking even harder, and she tried to sit up, hissing in pain as she did.  Still, they couldn’t just lay in the street.  Loosening her hold on him a little, she muttered, “Caleb, we need to get up…  Can you stand up on your own?”  Sniffling a little, the boy nodded and crawled away from her side, rising shakily to his knees.  Taking a deep breath, Relena squeezed her eyes shut and followed his example, though she quickly found her vision blurring.  _It **hurts** …_  Big, fat tears rolling down her cheeks, she brought one knee up, and shakily started to try bringing up the other.  Caleb stood himself and grabbed at the hand she had been waving for balance, trying to give her an anchoring point.  He was so little it really didn’t help at all, but she appreciated the attempt.  After a few not quite falls, she managed to get both feet back on the ground. 

            By then, the van was long gone. 

            Once she had regained her posture, Caleb threw his arms around her, burying his face in the leg of her pants and starting to cry in earnest.  Relena patted his head a bit awkwardly with one hand, wiping at her still streaming eyes with her other.  It was over, and she was relieved… but she had only managed to save one of the five. 

            _Only one._   The thought made her want to cry harder, and it had nothing to do with the pain. 

            She almost lost her balance when she heard a motorcycle rev and someone called, “Relena!” 

            Catching herself, she turned to squint into the night at the rider, who was coming up alongside her and pulling off his helmet-  “Mitchell?” she asked, disbelieving.  _He can drive a motorcycle?_  

            “You’re safe,” he sighed, relieved. 

            She winced, looking back in the direction the van had gone.  “They got away…” 

            “What happened?” 

            “Relena!” 

            She turned at the other voice and found herself smiling weakly at Jake.  “You’re late,” she murmured. 

            “What happened to you staying back in the alley?” he demanded, his brows furrowed. 

            “You left your gun with me!” she exclaimed.  “I was trying to find you, what if you’d needed it?” 

            He stared at her for a moment, mouthing silently.  “You…  Relena, I _never_ carry only _one_ gun!” 

            Well, that made her feel unaccountably stupid…  But when Caleb shifted against her leg and she found herself automatically rubbing his shoulder in reassurance, she couldn’t find it in her heart to care how foolish she had been.  Sighing, looking down at the boy, she decided, “It was worth it.”  Her resolve hardening again, she looked back to David and fixed him with a commanding stare.  “They aren’t far from here; they were heading that way.” 

            _I am **not** going to save just **one**._  

            The man looked mildly taken aback, before getting an almost predatory smile and shoving his helmet back on.  “Ma’am!” 

            She looked back to Jake.  “You’re staying with us?” 

            He stared at her for a long moment, something she couldn’t quite read in his eyes.  It seemed as though he was fighting to keep some emotion from overtaking him, but she didn’t think he was angry with her for her mad rush to help.  One fist was clenched, though… 

            Her bodyguard nodded an answer and came closer, crouching into a kneel in front of her and beginning to talk softly to the boy, coaxing him off her thoroughly aching leg and going through what she recognized as a paramedic’s basic trauma evaluation.  His questions were all delivered in that soft, soothing tone of voice, and he even managed to get a sniffling giggle or two out of him with a few well-placed comments and pokes.  He had a few scrapes, but that was all.  Caleb didn’t talk back, only nodded or shook his head, but Jake treated him as though they were having a perfectly normal conversation, smiling easily and encouraging him, saying that his friends would all be back soon, talking him into sitting down by himself on the sidewalk while Jake made sure the ‘lady who rescued you’ was okay too. 

            He smiled easily and kept the boy calm… but his eyes didn’t match the rest of his face. 

            “What happened?” he asked quietly, concern lighting up his face. 

            But his eyes still weren’t in it. 

            “I was holding onto the handle on the back door, and he must have unlocked it,” she explained quietly, watching him.  “We both went flying, but I protected him from most of it.” 

            He grimaced, nodding his understanding.  “What hit the ground first?” 

            “My shoulder,” she whispered, feeling tears sting her eyes again as the pain washed through her anew at the reminder.  It was as if the joint had its own heartbeat, thrumming through her… 

            “I’ll try to be gentle,” he murmured, reaching out to gingerly grip the joint, evaluating it.  “I don’t think it’s dislocated,” he decided after a moment.  “Does anything else hurt as bad?” 

            She shook her head, wiping at her eyes again with her left hand; it just _hurt_ so bad…  “I feel like such a baby,” she muttered irritably. 

            He let out a disbelieving guffaw, which certainly caught her attention.  His eyes were completely in it this time.  “Lena, you’re a _hero_ , today,” he told her quietly.  “You’re allowed to cry all you want.”  His eyes darkened again.  “That little boy is safe, and it wasn’t because of anything I did, that’s for sure… that was all you, and on your own, no less.  It doesn’t matter how much of it was luck.  I’m proud of you… you should be too.” 

            “Then why do you look so _tortured_?” she demanded, finally putting a name to what she had been seeing in those dark blue eyes.  They were haunted… despairing.  He was trying to hide it, but there it was. 

            His laugh didn’t deserve the name of one – it was as bleak as his eyes.  “Because I _didn’t_ ,” he explained bitterly.  “The last time I saw my little brother, he was the same age as Caleb over there…”  His voice didn’t quite crack, but it came close.  “I had _promised_ to always protect him, and I lost him.  I scoured the world and colonies for almost a _year_ , and I never caught a damn glimmer of him.”  He covered his face with one hand. 

            Suddenly, Mitchell’s voice came floating back to her.  _“Jake…  He changed a lot after his family died…  He calmed down about it all eventually, and we came back home… we were close enough before that, but after…  I guess he’s been my best friend since then.”_  

            Not giving much thought to her injuries, she pulled him tight into a hug, grinding her teeth to bite back the pain… and felt Jake’s body shudder hard against hers.  She just held him tighter, recognizing the precursor to crying, squeezing her own eyes shut. 

            “I…  I just…  I would have made sure they were caught, but you ran out like that and…”  His fingers buried themselves in the back of the fabric of the coat she was wearing… his coat.  She could hear the tears in his voice, and found herself wanting to hold him tighter, even though she couldn’t.  “You just…”  He took a deep, shuddering breath and she felt the wet of his face against her neck.  “Thank-you…  Thank-you, Relena.” 

**-**

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are really nice, I swear. Also, any theories? If you'll just have a little patience with me, I swear the edit should be worthwhile...


	28. Aftereffects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are consequences for every action - but those aren't always bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minimal editing in this one, grammar only.

**-**

**_Aftereffects  
_ **

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**September 1 st 197 – Friday – Belluno, Italy**

            “Rise and shine, Princess.” 

            Relena opened her eyes to half glare at Jake; he was sitting on the edge of her bed, looking far too pleased with himself.  “Where’s the canary?” she asked, grimacing slightly as she sat up.  Her right arm was in a sling, but that didn’t entirely stop the bruised tissue from complaining. 

            The blonde man laughed delightedly, and something fell from his upraised fist… and began to swing like a pendulum.  Relena blinked a few times, reaching up to rub to sleep out of her eyes.  “What?” she asked groggily. 

            “It’s _shiny_ ,” he returned, still with that broad grin. 

            Grumbling slightly, she reached out and caught the thing, focusing on the… pendant.  It was a necklace, she realized, a square pendant, with a tiny little aquamarine embedded in one corner and fancy cursive writing scrolling across it. 

            “ _‘The best way to predict the future is to invent it. – Alan Kay’_ ” she read aloud, smiling.  It was simple, but beautiful.  “It’s lovely,” she breathed, running her thumb over the inscription, and flipping it over to see there was a stylized phoenix etched onto the back.  The metal was pale and bright…  “Thank-you, it suits perfectly…  Where did you get it?” 

            Jake laughed again, letting go of the chain.  “I should think it obvious that it’s special made…  And for the record, it has a completely faultless transponder in it, and the metal is gundanium, so there isn’t a chance in hell it’ll ever break.”  He leaned back, looking even more proud of himself.  “And it only looks like a bit of sentimental pretty, so no one should think to get rid of it if you manage to get yourself kidnapped eventually, so we’ll have a clear beacon to find you if the worst even tries to happen.” 

            Some part of her wanted to huff in annoyance at that part, but it was so beautiful… it was only better that it was practical too.  “Gundanium?” she asked instead, not looking away from her gift.  The metal was brighter than platinum, and left unpainted, but had a brushed look…  _Gundanium…_   Her heart twisted itself in a knot.  _Heero…  Wherever you are, are you safe now?  Duo, Quatre?_  She held the pendant tight in one fist, closing her eyes against tears. 

            “It’s kept you safe before,” her bodyguard returned quietly, reaching forward and wrapping a hand gently around her hand.  “I thought you’d appreciate the gesture.” 

            “I do,” she assured him quickly, looking up at him and smiling even though the tears fell.  Opening her hand, she bit at her lip slightly.  “Can you help me put it on?” 

            “Of course.”  He took it back from her and opened the clasp.  “The chain is platinum… it was hard enough finding someone who could do such fine detail-work on gundanium that I wasn’t going to push my luck for a chain.  The beacon is heavily encoded, so you don’t need to worry about the wrong people picking it up, and I can reprogram the chip if the security gets cracked, even though I can’t exactly access it directly.”  Fastening it around her neck, he noted, “I don’t imagine I need to tell you never to take it off?  Wear it under your clothes, don’t show it around?” 

            “Naturally,” she returned in kind.  “Are you also going to tell me not to leap onto the back of moving vehicles?”  Milliardo had certainly had something to say about _that_. 

            “It wasn’t moving when you leapt on,” he argued mildly.  “Though next time, I’d rather you call me – maybe shoot out the tires.” 

            She couldn’t help but grin at that.  Something had definitely changed between them after their ‘savior stunt,’ as her brother was calling it, but she couldn’t exactly put her finger on it, and she hadn’t tried talking to Jake about it all in the few days since.  He had been an emotional train wreck for reasons she only halfway understood at first, then he had been constantly busy managing the press coverage and keeping her brother from losing his head, keeping them on track with the scheduled tour despite the attention they had garnered and her impromptu trip to the hospital via ambulance… something about how if they let people fuss and make a big deal out of it, it was less likely to blow up in their faces. 

            In her opinion, it had still been a veritable explosion, but Jake seemed pleased with the outcome.  At least, he was when he wasn’t grinding his teeth listening to Milliardo lecture him over the phone. 

            In any case, Relena was happier than she could say that he really _wasn’t_ upset with her over the debacle. 

            “I’ve only shot a gun once in my life,” she reminded him.  “Seeing as I missed a large target at point blank range with a small revolver, firing _your_ gun didn’t seem like a very good idea.” 

            He gave her an amused sort of look, undoing the velcro on her sling and gently pulling it away from her.  “I never did hear what kind of gun you tried to use on Une.” 

            She flushed a little, letting him stretch her arm out experimentally.  “The one in my parents’ gun safe?”  At his raised eyebrow, she added, “My mom kept it in her purse sometimes.” 

            “Ah.”  He gestured for her to start her stretching exercises, and she did so, though she winced.  “What most people don’t realize,” he went on to explain, “Is that the majority small guns have terrible recoil – the makers try to compress them too much, and the force has to go somewhere.”  A moment later, he produced the gun she had carried a few days past, seemingly out of thin air.  “This, though, is a Daewoo… and she might look like a real bad boy, but in all reality, she’s sweet as a kitten.”  His smile was a little sad as he ran a hand over the weapon.  Looking back up at her, he added, “She’s what I learned on.” 

            Shaking his head a little, he stood.  “I’ll get out so you can get dressed; just knock when you’re done and I’ll help you get back into the sling.  If you baby it now, you can probably make your appearance later on this morning without the thing.” 

            She nodded a little, pulling back the covers and standing.  “Thank-you again,” she murmured.  She knew her brother must have foot the bill for the locator, but the amount of thought that her friend had put into designing the necklace was most certainly not lost on her. 

            Milliardo never would have had something so beautiful made. 

            Jake just gave her another of his easy grins before slipping into the adjoining room. 

-

***

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**September 6 th 197 – Wednesday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “We should get up.” 

            “Mm,” Chaos returned noncommittally. 

            Melissa rolled her eyes, shifting so she could see his face.  They were laying in their thrown together bed of blankets in the loft above the shop.  The alarm had already been snoozed twice already, but as there wasn’t anything currently screeching an urgent need to admit their midday nap was finished… 

            “We could wait for the alarm,” he suggested. 

            “It’s gone off three times now,” his girlfriend argued. 

            “No, the one I have rigged to go off when a customer comes in.” 

            “It’ll sound up here?”  He made an annoyed noise into her hair, which caused her to laugh.  “Right, right, sorry, my bad, I completely forgot I was working with an electronics genius.” 

            “My fingers have this strange feeling, like I desperately need to start tickling you…” 

            She squeaked and tried to roll away from him, but his arms were securely wrapped around her already.  He made no move to do as he threatened, content to merely hold her close. 

            It had been almost a week since William Mehile had finished his visit and headed back to Berlin with a promise that he would make sure Duo was let be.  He hadn’t been able to talk the man out of reporting to Treize, but he _had_ convinced him to make sure to report it personally, so no middleman could possibly go running with the tale.  He hadn’t wanted to concede even that much, but Will hadn’t been willing to back down any further. 

            That, and after the shock that the bastard was seriously still alive and kicking had sunk in, he had to admit that in the end?  Khushrenada _had_ pulled through on their side.  He certainly didn’t trust the man any further than he could have thrown Deathscythe, but while the enemy of his enemy wasn’t necessarily his friend, the old head of OZ had nothing to gain from making trouble for Duo. 

            …And hadn’t he given Heero Epyon to help keep Sanc safe?  His old comrade hadn’t exactly shared the details on that – no surprise there – but he _had_ said where he’d gotten the gundam from after sufficient pestering.  Initially, he’d written it off as Heero trying to give him a random answer so he’d just give up the game, but when he talked an explanation out of the guy on why he’d traded gundams with Zechs like the things were action figures, he’d started to believe.  Well, so long as his sometime friend didn’t do anything _too_ insane in short order, anyway.  Heero was off his rocker enough that that _might_ have been his idea of a running joke. 

            But then Treize had backed them against the dolls up at _Libra_ , actually making good use of himself instead of spouting that flowery crap about battle being noble… and it turned out he’d even had the old Wing gundam all fixed up to give back.  He seriously hadn’t thought to use it himself when he came to fight on the excuse that it wasn’t _his_. 

            That logic was about as stupid as Heero deciding that stealing the parts he needed to fix Wing off Deathscythe wasn’t accepting any help from Duo.  Though, considering the fact that it was all about the same machine, the irony kinda fit. 

            That or Mr. Perfect Soldier Yuy, master hacker extraordinaire, managed to program the damn suit to self-destruct when someone else tried hopping in the cockpit. 

            He made a face, burying his nose in Melissa’s hair and focusing on the happy little noise she made.  He didn’t care about any of that anymore… so there was no reason to think about it.  The only important part was that Treize was probably too obsessed with his whack ‘nobility’ to endanger the life he’d rebuilt for himself as Chaos, and he’d leave him alone.  The only thing he had to worry about anymore was remembering where he’d put his shoes if a customer _did_ come in… and they were sitting by the stairs. 

            He was free to live his life for once, and there wasn’t anything that could make him give it up. 

            Melissa sighed a little.  “We should really get up.” 

            “Mm.” 

-

***

-

**Undetermined**

            Adam grinned a little to himself, once again finding himself in a crowd of people watching the princess. 

            _There really **is** something about her, isn’t there?_  

            She had moved across the European continent spreading hope like it was something easy to come by… and her very active efforts to save a handful of children last week had only made more people love her.  If he hadn’t seen some of the sheer chaos of the process himself in his own pilgrimage following the young woman, he would have thought it was orchestrated to help her public image, it was so successful.  _She really might be the key to all this._   He had thought what information he could skim out of the Peacecraft Regime and Treize’s databanks was too optimistic with that idea, but Relena Darlian-Peacecraft was overshooting those predictions… and she had only re-entered the political scene roughly six months ago. 

            He wondered how many factions would be moving to have her on their side now… and exactly how much persuasion would be necessary to move her away from her brother. 

            The involvement of the R.L. Tomorrow Today Fund intrigued him too.  The proprietor made rare end exclusive offers, seemingly at random.  Lengthy rebuilding after the coup was finished in L3-X18999 fit in with the almost simultaneous efforts to rebuild and increase the economy in a number of other colonies, and even a city or two on Earth.  The building of _Peacemillion_ as a sort of lifeboat asylum fit the rebuilding efforts, and then there were a mess of donations to the colonial foster care systems.  It almost seemed as though the proprietor was making a concerted effort to clean up after specific acts of violence that led to increases in poverty. 

            It was hardly the only fund dedicated to such things.  That wasn’t what bothered him, really.  There were three factors that piqued his curiosity, when it came to RLTT. 

            First, it didn’t receive petitions for aid, or if it did, it didn’t do so very often.  This meant that it was the manager of the fund selecting projects, which suggested either an ulterior motive, or a peculiar sense of right and wrong, considering how choosy it was.  Something had to catch the owner’s _interest_ for it to appear… which meant that there was very likely a running commonality between most, if not all, of the projects it had funded since its creation in 188.  In particular, the first project it endorsed was the rebuilding on L3-X18999 after an attempted coup and General Catalonia sent in the Specials, led by Treize Khushrenada, to help suppress it.  Treize had been hospitalized after taking a hit to save one of his cadets, one ‘Lucrezia Noin.’ 

            Other than this event possibly being the motivator behind the creation of the fund, was part of the second reason it intrigued him; the selected first candidate was none other than Leia Barton, daughter of the head of the Barton Foundation.  Curiously enough, she had been working as a volunteer in the hospital where the then ‘Instructor’ Khushrenada had been sent for his injuries. 

            Leia Barton was the first candidate for RLTT… though a little over a year later the woman mysteriously disappeared, presumably deliberately and with a name change, due to the lack of investigation for a missing person. 

            The third reason was that while he had free access to the Peacecraft Regime’s data network through the backdoor a spy within their ranks must be using, the electronic security surrounding all things to do with Princess Relena Peacecraft, the most recent candidate, was absolutely flawless. 

            RLTT was protecting its own interests thoroughly. 

            The candidates, however… a few names caught attention, even while others came from seemingly nowhere.  Leia Barton, Lucrezia Noin, Howard Oclaire, Relena Darlian-Peacecraft…  There was something important there, but he couldn’t figure out exactly what.  He was convinced there was a pattern, but he couldn’t class it. 

            _What does the R.L. stand for?_  

            “I think we’ve met before.” 

            Adam tilted his head to look at the man standing behind him, and suppressed the urge to lash out.  The man’s dark hair was cut short, and his dark brown eyes were easygoing, his features settled into an amused expression.  He was shorter than Adam, but he only had him by a few inches.  He was dressed commonly, and didn’t stand out in the crowd… 

            …but he was part of Relena Peacecraft’s bodyguard contingent. 

            He frowned as though trying to remember.  “Have we?”  They were packed into a crowd; it would be impossible to get into a fight without injuring countless bystanders, and even more impossible to get away. 

 _Shit._   He _knew_ should have kept back to the shadows, but the risk had seemed minimal. 

            “I think it was through a friend,” the bodyguard whose name I didn’t know went on easily.  “Guy named Ivan Alekseev?” 

            Adam frowned.  _Ivan Alekseev?_   It sounded familiar…  _Wasn’t that the leader of Chang’s manhunt?_   Treize’s mole that he had playing in both fields, the one whose attic he’d left the laptop in- 

            _Ah.  Treize’s._  

            “I think I remember him.”  _This could be interesting._   “His wife’s name is Kristine?  Three kids?”  He smiled pleasantly as the spy narrowed his eyes at the implied threat.  _Not hardly, but think what you like._   “Sorry, I hadn’t realized he was a friend of yours.” 

            He looked aggravated, but he merely returned, “Yeah, it’s Michael, remember?  I’d have sworn I saw you back in July, when Tate was having that issue with his girl’s old man, but you ducked out of there so fast I wasn’t sure.” 

            Adam remembered getting hit with the lights of a ship right after Mariemaia launched without him… and in retrospect, that was probably what half of this was all about, at least.  “Oh, that was you?  Sorry, I was distracted; this runaway had just stolen my ride.”  He made sure to visibly grimace.  “It sucked, I found my bike later, but the kid was _gone_ , and believe me, I looked everywhere I could think of.” 

            ‘Michael’ studied him for a moment, probably trying to decide if he was telling the truth or not, before sighing.  “That had to be annoying.” 

            “You’re telling _me_ ,” Adam returned, rolling his eyes for the theatrics.  “I was really just trying to lend a hand.”  _He called Treize Tate?_   “That whole bit with Tate’s in-laws looked like an accident waiting to happen, you know?” 

            Michael made a face.  “Yeah, I guess it was.”  He gestured toward the stage.  “What’re you doing this far west, though?” 

            Adam shrugged.  “Just satisfying my curiosity, going where the wind takes me.”  He tilted his head to one side, considering the princess.  “She really is something, isn’t she?” 

            He smirked.  “That she is.  I don’t suppose there’s any way I can keep in touch with you?” 

            Adam considered.  This conversation was already going to get to Treize, and he wasn’t against communicating them, for all that he didn’t entirely trust the organization.  If they had wanted to catch him, all they would have needed to do was have ‘Michael’ haul him off for arrest and never file the paperwork – provided the man had backup, of course.  Just because Treize had one mole in Relena’s guard didn’t mean they were all loyal to him. 

            There was no particular reason to turn the offer down, and quite a few possible advantages for opening up a line of communication.  If it started to go sour, it wasn’t like they would be able to track him down. 

            “I don’t have a phone,” he said by way of answer, “but I guess we could trade emails.” 

-

***

-

**Unknown**

            “A kitten.” 

            Odin blinked.  “We can’t travel with a cat.” 

            Marlé scowled up at him.  “Yes we could.” 

            “No, it would get lost.”  He squinted, spotting a stand where they could buy lunch. 

            “I wouldn’t lose it.” 

            Starting to walk in that direction, he frowned.  “Why do you want a kitten?” 

            The look she gave him suggested that she clearly thought him simple.  “Because it’s a _kitten_.”  Making a frustrated noise at his blank stare, she argued, “All girls love cats!” 

            Odin frowned again.  He’d never seen evidence to suggest there was any truth to this fact.  “We can’t travel with a cat, it would get lost.” 

            She let out a longsuffering sort of sigh, following him up to the stand.  “Okay, fine, but it was worth a shot.” 

            He blinked at that, glancing sideways.  Sometimes he didn’t understand Marie, and he had immediately thought it was one of those moments, not that she had been seeing how far she could push him.  It was just as well, he supposed.  He gestured at the menu, and she ordered them both hot dogs.  Once they had paid and applied more condiments than he supposed were strictly necessary, the debate picked back up. 

            It was a simple question, really.  “What do you want for your birthday?” 

            She looked up at him with a far more shrewd expression as they sat on a bench.  “What can I have?” 

            Odin frowned again; he wasn’t sure exactly what she was about… but the question was fair enough.  “Something other than a pet.”  _That_ idea was just ridiculous. 

            This time, she frowned.  “I don’t know,” she admitted. 

            He sighed.  First she asked for a present, which seemed reasonable enough, all traditions considered, and now she didn’t know what she wanted?  He had assumed that, in asking, she had already had something in mind. 

            _…Other than a **cat** , at least._  “Why do you want a kitten?” he found himself asking again. 

            “I’ve _always_ wanted a kitten,” she informed him easily, taking a bite of her hot dog. 

            His frown deepened.  “But _why_?”  He could understand dogs, after a fashion… you could train them, make them come with you, and their loyalty never faltered; a dog was a companion.  He might have actually considered the possibility, had she said she wanted a puppy.  “What do cats _do_?” 

            She gave him an incredulous look.  “They cuddle.”  

            …That was even more confusing.  _Cuddle?_   He _knew_ her coat was warm enough.  “Why do you want to cuddle something?” 

            Her eyes narrowed, though he wasn’t entirely sure why… then they widened in realization and maybe something else.  “You never had a stuffed animal you cuddled when you were little?” 

            He could feel his frown deepening again.  “You want a stuffed animal?”  

            “ _No_ ,” she negated emphatically.  She just looked concerned now.  “Odin…  Didn’t anyone cuddle you when you were growing up?” 

            The conclusion she’d come to took him aback… and after a moment’s disbelief, he scooted closer so their legs touched, held his food in his left hand, and rested his right arm across her shoulders, lightly holding her against him.  A moment later, she rested her weight against him in a sort of little sigh. 

            “Does this count?” he asked after a moment. 

            “Yeah,” she mumbled quietly. 

            “Odin would sit with me,” he explained, trying to find the words for what he meant.  “Like this, or just near each other, and it counted the same, even if we weren’t touching.  Some nights when I was younger, he’d hold me while I slept, and since it never seemed strange, he must have raised me that way… but it was the same if I was in bed and he was still up reading.”  He bit his lip.  “I don’t understand how you could have that with an animal.” 

            She sighed again, sounding tired.  “We’re not talking about the same thing, Odin…  But that’s okay.”  She looked up at him, smiling.  “Your version’s better anyway.” 

-

***

-

**September 7 th 197 ** **– Thursday – Prague, Czech Republic**

            Hilde smiled as she explained the basics of the plan to a few of the Sweeper boys; the attitude of one of the ones closer to her age reminded her of Duo.  He was the most tech-savvy of his little group, but the others were largely just wary of him, even as they handed him the more difficult work.  She supposed they were worried about setting him off, as he more than held his own in a fight and certainly _wasn’t_ scrawny, like Duo had been, so he couldn’t quite pull off the innocent aura…  But it was funny, really, because Nate _was_ innocent, where Duo hadn’t ever been. 

            And Chaos wasn’t scrawny anymore, but he could still manage the harmless act, she’d put money on it. 

            It was easier to think of it almost as if he were two people, despite how she’d given him crap for it… and in a lot of ways, she supposed it was true.  She’d recognized him of course, but he’d been so different at the same time, in Amsterdam… at ease in a way she hadn’t realized he _could_ be.  He’d been so confident that what she remembered of the fearless, easygoing gundam pilot seemed shy and unsure.  At first she’d thought he had merely grown as she had grown, but that dream had been shattered when he broke down.  He was still hurting, and she’d wanted to help him, heal him, more than anything… but she couldn’t. 

            The Devils were doing that. 

            And so she’d left him in their care, to continue as their beloved Kay… and continued with her own life. 

            It had hurt, at first … but now, even the idea that she might never see him again was only wistful, not sad.  If he was happy… _she_ could win this war for him and give him somewhere safe to live.  If they won, he wouldn’t have to hide, and she could see him without threatening everything he cared about.  It had hurt so bad when she realized that they were more important to him than she was…  

            …Or at least, it had until she realized that she cared more about beating the Regime than staying with him. 

            She remembered how, growing up, she had never understood why her mother emphasized that school, her career, and making her own way in life mattered more than any boy could.  After all, why would she want to give up anything she worked for for a _boy_?  She also remembered realizing that she’d do anything for Duo, anything at all, even if it killed her – though she supposed it’d helped that he really was working for the good guys, and helping him was helping the cause.  There hadn’t been any need to draw that line.  But now, now that there was good reason, because he wasn’t on _anybody’s_ side anymore?  She’d finally figured out why her mom had worked so hard to make her believe those words.  For a second, she’d thought about it, wondered if maybe she could just disappear and stay with him… 

            …and realized that she would never be happy merely being _any_ man’s pet. 

            Not that it would be like _that_ if it was with Duo… but she had the world in the palm of her hand, and she wasn’t about to give up the freedom that Duo had taught her to yearn for – that she had learned to grasp with two hands and wrest away from anyone who _dared_ try to cage her.  Maybe if Duo had come back with her it could have worked, fighting side by side, but this was her life now… and anyone who might be worth her time could come to _her_.  If they couldn’t live by those terms, then she’d run them down as surely as she regularly did Xutao.  Duo had taught her that a man ought to hold to his words, not just say them and fall by the wayside; even when he’d failed before, Duo always came out with his head held high.  _Well, maybe not literally,_ she admitted with a mental grimace, but he had never been willing to submit to defeat. 

            There was more than _one_ reason Xu had been dropped out of the L5 gundam program in favor of Wufei.  _Guy acts like a snot-nosed kid._   Her impression of Wufei had been fuzzy at best and not very good in general, but having gotten to know Xu had _her_ convinced that the guy deserved his pilot status.  She rolled her eyes.  _Wherever he **is** , at any rate._  She wasn’t _that_ pissed that he couldn’t bother himself to lend a hand, however, as part of her really _did_ worry that he was just like her worthless partner. 

            She smirked a little, remembering Sally’s finishing comment on one of her more recent ‘getting along with people’ lectures.  _‘Chang is not useless, even if he makes good target practice.’_  

            Of course, that had also been a dig at her… but those kinds of digs only worked if you were sorry about what you’d done.  Besides, she hadn’t done any permanent damage; just gave him a few splotches of color to show off for the next couple weeks.  The Chinese asshole was more than welcome to return the favor, if he felt so inclined.  It was hardly her fault if he couldn’t quite pull the maneuver off. 

            Not that she could beat his fancy footwork; the bastard was a literal killer when it came to hand-to-hand.  No, what he needed to work on was his stealth, because if he couldn’t find and/or _catch_ her, he didn’t deserve any vindication.  The game was mean, but it kept her on her toes and honed her senses for the next time she was out in the field… and in all fairness, she had thought he’d be a bit better at it than he was.  The General had been more bemused than annoyed when hearing of the set-up Hilde proposed for herself, and only imposed the rather reasonable rules of no damage to the facility or personnel… though ‘damage to personnel’ merely meant ‘don’t do anything that will require the attention of a medical professional.’ 

            That and she had to carry and answer her phone at all times while on base; hiding from the people giving the orders was a bad idea. 

            She finished off her rough explanation to the boys, noting when the official briefing would probably be, before making her excuses; she had agreed to meet up with her favorite teacher in fifteen minutes, and she wanted a little time to warm up so she could make less of a fool of herself. 

-

***

-

**Treize’s hidden compound**

            Treize sighed, rubbing his eyes as he took a brief break from the paperwork that had begun to pile up in his absence. 

            Being away for almost two weeks had its pros and cons.  The upside had, of course, been the freedom to move as he pleased and fly as much as he wanted, making sure his skills didn’t become too rusty.  It was a release he hadn’t realized he had needed so badly, and had done wonders for his mounting aggravation. 

            However, there were far more problems to deal with.  Easily fixed, but it was disappointing when he realized that Dekim had raided the majority of Vulkanus already and _not_ brought more resources for the plant to work through, the fool.  It had been disheartening to find that the over three hundred dolls he had been expecting did not, in fact, exist; all that was left were those he had already taken from the man directly.  Also alarming was the fact that Marquise had doubtless confiscated what his own men had had to leave behind on L3-X1988 – there was a small chance that, if he ran composition tests on the materials of enough suits, the analysts could find something harvested that was distinctly manmade, and turn suspicion on Barge. 

            He needed to see what damage control he could work through his men inside his onetime comrade’s confidence…  It wasn’t dangerous so long as Zechs had no reason to suspect, and if they played it right, he wouldn’t until their troops made first contact and he saw more Serpents.  All the same, the safest bet would be to have a few pieces of evidence removed or destroyed while laying clear blame to an obvious party that couldn’t take the fall, such as Po’s organized group of rebels. 

            Treize once again bemoaned losing track of Chang Xutao; with a few exceptions, Dr. Po’s organization was running like a well-oiled machine, and not capturing the man meant he _still_ didn’t have any ins through which to establish a means of communication.  While he was actually rather pleased that it was so difficult – it meant they would make a formidable ally – the situation was getting incredibly frustrating. 

            And there was _still_ no news of Mariemaia… he had scanned through all his reports for anything that might pertain to his little girl before beginning to go through what he had missed in a more systematic manner.  He was beginning to lose hope on that front.  The deep ache in his chest had never completely faded when he lost touch with Leia the last time, but his hopes had risen so high when he had thought he had found Marie, because surely she had some idea where her mother was, and it would all be easy sailing from there.  Now all his hopes were being ground painfully into the ground again, and it was harder and harder to concentrate. 

            _One clue…  One clue, and I would travel to the ends of the universe searching._  

            A chirp from his computer brought him out of his brood, and he frowned tiredly at the notice that something new had come in from Váli.  It wasn’t the usual update time… which meant he had stumbled on something important that he thought needed to be passed along right away. 

            That was good news.  Váli had managed to forward something to him even while at Vulkanus – Treize was still a little unclear as to exactly _how_ , though he had long learned that his old friend would have already destroyed the evidence, so attempting to work out the logistics was pointless.  For such lengths Váli had gone to for the delivery, the strange part had been how little information had been given.  In fact, the man had been remarkably subdued; almost closemouthed.  Treize had supposed that maybe he was upset at a lack of flowing information himself, given the current situation, then remembered the time of year and dismissed it as Váli’s usual August depression, but it worried him just the same. 

            He immediately opened the new message and started the decrypting process, ruthlessly suppressing the rising hope for good news.  He had just spent over a week arranging for a few lesser known bits of the asteroid belt to be harvested by Vulkanus, which was all too fine of a reminder of how wrong his interpretations could be.  He was _months_ behind his projections.   _At least news of Relena’s wildfire popularity and support are shoring up the cracks in the land.  It’s less likely that we’ll be facing a collapse before I can counter Milliardo._   He was still unsure if she could be immediately trusted, but the signs were promising so far, and she was gaining influence _fast_. 

            He was so concentrated on feeling pessimistic, then, that as the message came clear and he started to read, he was utterly _delighted_ , minimal as the news was.  It laid down the foundations not only of a possible search for Marie, but a new connection he couldn’t have _hoped_ for… and confirmed another suspicion. 

            “Your Excellency?” 

            Treize _beamed_ at his second.  “Yes?” 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

 


	29. Anger Management

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone develops coping mechanisms. Some are just more disruptive than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only minimal grammatical editing on this one. Enjoy!

**-**

**_Anger Management _ **

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**September 15 th 197 – Friday – Barcelona, Spain**

            Relena grit her teeth as she watched Milliardo step out of his car, cameras flashing.  _He just couldn’t help himself, could he?_ she thought furiously.  _I only have a few days left on tour, and he just has to come **check up** on me like I’m a little girl and **destroy** the image that I’m independent._  

            He hadn’t even warned her so she could do some damage control.  Now she had the options of looking like an annoyed little girl at being interrupted, or accepting his presence graciously and making it look like they got along perfectly and were in agreement – even though he had been against her survey in the first place. 

            She didn’t think she had _ever_ had so great an urge to throw something.  _He just doesn’t care,_ she continued to grouse, even while smiling as though pleasantly surprised; at least the surprised part was accurate.  _It would have been nice if he could deign to **tell** **me** about this little plan of his._  

            The other option was that her brother was oblivious to what he had just done and simply stupid when it came to politics, which she absolutely refused to believe.  So his coming to meet her meant that he either had no respect for all that she had accomplished so far or simply didn’t care how thoroughly he crushed her objectives. 

            “Would you look at that,” Jake muttered, softly enough that only she could hear, standing just to her left and behind her.  She had watched over enough tapes of her own appearances by now to realize that even his lips weren’t moving when he talked to her like this. 

            _I need to learn that skill,_ she decided, continuing to beam.  It wasn’t hard to smile with her friend’s dry tone of voice, but the urge to maim hadn’t entirely faded away.  Either way, it would be a definitive stress relief to be able to reply to Jake’s private running commentary when they were in public. 

            “Stay aloof, I’d say.” 

            Her smile became a touch more genuine; Milliardo had surprised them, but they could still run damage control… and that was probably the best route.  Look happy to see him, but make it very clear that her actions were none of his business at the same time, in such a way that it merely looked like professionalism.  It should be easy enough – after all, her business certainly _wasn’t_ any of his concern, and if he managed to lose his cool on screen it would probably shine well on her. 

            Courteous, but not in cahoots. 

            She nodded fractionally to tell Jake she agreed; it was good to have someone so close at all times who understood the intrigue games.  A second opinion was _beyond_ valuable, especially when it looked like her brother was out to sabotage her. 

            “He really is an asshole, though.” 

            She made an amused noise in the back of her throat, and felt more than heard his answering grin. 

-

***

-

**Sahara Desert**

            “You’re questioning me?” 

            The blonde man looked entirely unconcerned, even somewhat annoyed.  “I already said I’d take care of it.  I’d ‘a sworn it was my due to take care of scrapes in my people.” 

            Roshan narrowed his eyes at Robby; he had never come to trust the young man, for all his show of loyalty.  Not so much because he acted suspiciously, or even that he was too _good_ seeming, because neither was true.  Robby had adapted to their style of life relatively quickly, but many young men did; it was only natural to feel the truth of their existence when coming to live by their code.  Others had changed more swiftly, and not all of them had been pretenders.  In fact, Robby’s greater than average time in the cages suggested more stability: a true conversion.  His behavior, both in the cages and outside them, had shown brilliant progression – it was why he was charged with his own troop when he had only been out of the Iron Ghetto for three months.  The man had the necessary ruthlessness for the position tempered by his affinity for selecting the real gems of soldiers out of the mass; he was frighteningly efficient in most, if not all, aspects. 

            It was nothing about his performance that made Roshan wary of Robby, as he insisted on being called.  It wasn’t even anything he could specifically pin down on evidence.  It was just… the fucker was _too good_ with people. 

            He couldn’t logically validate that as a problem, however.  In fact, it was a rather large asset.  In many ways, Robby’s leadership of his troop was ideal, his degree of manipulation of them just right.  The level of possessiveness he had for those under him was somewhat disconcerting, but despite the problem he was now having with that, the benefits seemed to far outweigh the annoyances.  They very rarely cared to defy him, as he had made it very, ah, _publicly_ clear that when it came to disobedience, he found the punishments set down by the code too lax.  He openly _enjoyed_ devising his more… creative reprimands. 

            Roshan couldn’t precisely work out why Robby bothered him as much as he did, outside a wariness that refused to fade.  He also wasn’t entirely clear as to why he had decided to test boundaries today, and over one of Robby’s favorites, no less, other than that it feeling right.  Now, however, he was facing the troop leader’s cool brown eyes and easy stance that belied his strength.  He could see what others perceived as a hint of madness in the casual tilt of Robby’s head, as if he were only mildly curious about what was happening, and the subtle smile that tugged oddly at the long scar spreading across his left cheek.  Robby was almost girlishly pretty even with the scar.  If he didn’t know for a fact that the man had received the mark from a nasty fight while trying to rise through the ranks, he would have readily assumed he had either done it to himself or gotten it early on in the Ghetto to help turn those who were less picky about it being months since they had seen a woman. 

            The younger man’s smile made some deep part of him shiver, made him wonder exactly _what_ was passing through the blonde’s mind as he gave him that too innocuous air.  Roshan had known him long enough to know that one of the man’s more psychotic episodes was close to the surface when that expression came out to play… and right now, the insanity seemed to almost flow off him in waves.  Doubts about his decision to interfere today were flooding him mind, and he found himself loosening his hold on Cory and taking a half step back without any conscious decision. 

            The blonde man’s eyes brightened as he understood that he had won even though Roshan had yet to release the boy and he swiftly stepped forward to grab a fistful of Cory’s hair as leverage to yank him out of Roshan’s loosening hold.  Cory didn’t make a sound as his leader threw him to the sand behind him in a loose, careless gesture that suggested he weighed little more than a fist-sized rock. 

            Robby’s boneless, casual grace was one of the more terrifying fighting styles Roshan had ever encountered.  Standing at perhaps six foot, he was intimidating enough through sheer presence, let alone when he began to move.  Looking at him again, he felt as though he’d just been avoiding the obvious when wondering why Robby made him wary; _why_ was perfectly obvious.  The man was touched in the head.  He did his work exceptionally well, however, and with obvious enjoyment… so it really _was_ just best to leave him to his own devices. 

            _Let his men handle his mood swings._   Personally, he never wanted to be nearby when Robby lost what control he _had_. 

-

***

-

**Barcelona, Spain**

            “Milliardo,” Relena greeted easily with a little smile once they were in private.  Jake didn’t fight the urge to grin; little princess was getting _good_ at hiding her true thoughts.  She’d been spitting mad when he first showed up, but he was reasonably sure only he or Dorothy, maybe Mitchell, would have been able to tell.  Now, he _knew_ she was still upset, or at the very least annoyed, because she hadn’t been in a mood she would come down from easily, but she showed no outward sign of it. 

            Idly, he wondered how much of that indirectly came from her watching how he handled public situations.  She had commented before on how his face and voice often didn’t match, sometimes down to his lips, and he had freely explained… and she had taken what she liked of it and already incorporated it into her repertoire. 

            He really liked the subtle changes she had been making to herself since they had first met… each was slight, and it had taken time, but she was changing dramatically all the same into someone who really _would_ outclass the showy Lightning Count.  Watching her go from abashed girl to confident woman… was almost like watching Lu all over again, right down to cutting her hair.  That, and Relena had already had her lovesick obsession with one Heero Yuy.  In terms of maturity, right around now would have been when Lu went crazy over Zechs, but it seemed as though the princess had already gotten that out of her system. 

            She’d even gotten over the crush she’d had on _him_ with good timing, which he was certainly grateful for.   _That_ would have been embarrassing if her brother had ever found out, not to mention troublesome, as Zechs might have directed his overprotective issues at Jake. 

            “Relena,” Zechs returned warmly, pulling her into a hug.  “It’s good to see you.” 

            “It’s good to see you too, brother,” Relena returned coolly, returning the hug, then pointedly pulling away to give him a _very_ level look.  Jake made sure his expression was neutral as she asked, “Was there any particular reason you decided I couldn’t handle myself?” 

            It was still peculiar to Jake, after spending so many years with Zechs while he still wore a mask, to see emotion flit through his eyes.  Zechs was generally a stoic man, so it was still not a terribly common sight, but Jake could clearly read the hurt and dismay, that flashed across his face.  _So he really didn’t do it on purpose…_   That was interesting. 

            Apparently, Relena saw it too – or she was going with a chosen charade, he wasn’t sure.  “Your arrival reminds the public that I am only seventeen, brother, and by common standard would still need minding.”  There was a dare there in her speech patterns but before her brother could choose to act on or ignore it, she pushed on, eyes sad and accusing at the same time.  “I appreciate the thought, Milliardo, but you’ve just jeopardized the past month and a half of my work the same as if you let Dorothy sweet talk you during a press conference.” 

            Jake focused on the hall behind Zechs, even as he watched the princess.  He was impressed that she’d managed to say that with no more than a slight angry flush… and wondered whether that was what she had planned on saying in the first place.  It _did_ get the point across wonderfully, as Zechs would be just as mortified by the idea as his sister was by Dorothy’s more lewd suggestions, but he hadn’t thought her yet willing to spin a weapon so close to her own heart. 

            Apparently, forcing her out of her comfort zone periodically was an even better idea than he had anticipated. 

            Zechs’ reaction was mildly entertaining, though not in an overt way, and the siblings continued to argue in the oddly formal fashion that Jake was almost willing to swear was genetic.  They really had _not_ been raised together, and he had never been led to the impression that King Peacecraft and Vice-Foreign Minister Darlian had been so similar as to raise children to the same quirks of speech.  If he hadn’t thoroughly researched Relena before going through with his decision to guard her, he’d be tempted to believe she’d picked up on Zechs’ patterns and quickly moved into a complimentary style in order to impress him.  The fact that she had been just as she was from an early age made him question his belief that nurture far outweighed nature. 

            She was dominating their little debate, however, with righteous ease.  She _had_ been raised as the daughter of a key politician, after all, while Zechs had been orphaned at a young age and turned to the military.  Admittedly, the Khushrenadas had taken a major interest in him and he had made an effort to understand political intrigue, but Jake _knew_ Zechs.  He had an obnoxious tendency to dance around a subject the way a politician might, but the man was a soldier through and through. 

            That was at least half the reason watching little Lena push him around was amusing; now that she was becoming more confident, she seemed to have little to no trouble dancing circles around her brother.  Of course, he had suspicions that she had been weaving a ploy around the man all along, but he wasn’t about to ask.  Relena trusted him, but questioning a person’s loyalties was a dangerous game.  Maybe he would find out the details eventually, but for now, he was more than happy to simply watch his onetime rival be continually outmaneuvered by a girl four years their junior. 

            _Maybe the ice prince will learn some humility, someday._

            He wondered if he could get away with waking Mitchell up a little early this evening.  Zechs was hardly his favorite person in the world, and his nerves were already starting to fray.  David’s presence had a soothing quality to it that Jake had long ago given up trying to find a logical explanation for, and he could really _use_ that today.  In the end of the day, he didn’t exactly so much _dislike_ Zechs so much as he found him… stressful.  Any respect he had for the Lightning count was always tempered by taking him in small, controlled doses in order to keep his temper reigned in. 

            No one was entirely immune to hypocrisy, but sometimes?  Marquise could proclaim himself king of the concept and take the throne uncontested. 

            Zechs regained control of the conversation before too long, though Jake was relatively sure it was only after Relena had decided to let him, and they began moving back towards the suite the prince had had cordoned off for their use this morning.  It irked _him_ that he hadn’t seen fit to notify anyone that he would be coming, and had made arrangements without his knowledge – Zechs _knew_ better, from past experience if nothing else.  This was _his_ realm of control, _his_ security, and he’d made damn sure that Zechs understood how seriously he took the sanctity of personal authority in the field.  The prince ought to remember just how much flouting that would irritate his ground support, at the very least. 

            _Then again…_ They hadn’t really worked together in that sort of capacity for eight years, and while the pure egotism of Zechs’ lack of attention to detail had always driven Jake spare, David wasn’t wrong about how rarely Zechs bothered with details that didn’t show immediate, concrete results. 

            Fostering camaraderie never showed concrete, immediate results; it was a long game, not a tactic.  Consequently, Zechs had _never_ cared what actions set anyone’s teeth on edge; he was arrogant, and talented enough that he simply got away with it.  His superiors tolerated it because of his results, and those beneath him either avoided or worshipped him for it. 

            Jake had been one of precious few whose response had been confrontation, as he had been raised to the belief that object lessons were often the best, and while that wasn’t _wrong_ , it also carried heavy consequences that were rarely worth it.  It had taken time, but he’d eventually gotten the hang of biting back his kneejerk responses.  That, in turn, had given him the chance to learn the merit of tweaking of… tweaking a stream in a more desirable direction, instead of trying to dam it. 

            He smirked a little to himself, remembering how easy he was to rile up in his younger years… after Jack had come into his life.  He had been telling Relena the truth when he mentioned how he used to have ‘problems with authority.’  _I haven’t broken anyone’s arm without major provocation in years,_ he noted with some amusement, remembering Lucrezia lecturing him on what did and didn’t justify the action… even as she looked exasperatedly amused.  Lu had always been a teacher through and through, even when she wasn’t trying to be.  And really, after handling him and Zechs for years, it was no wonder she never encountered any problems managing the boys she taught down the line. 

            _I miss you, Lu…_  

            He _hated_ this time of year. 

            Dave was probably expecting to get up early anyway, he decided, trying to dispel the rising tension in his shoulders.  His old friend knew how wound up he always got this week even if nothing out of the routine happened, and always made a point to spend more time with him than he usually might.  He supposed that Zechs had never come to know him well enough to realize that today was possibly the worst day, other than tomorrow, in the span of the entire _year_ to put Jacob Miller on the spot. 

            “Jake,” the man muttered after a minute walking. 

            “Sir?” he returned, mildly amused and letting it dance in his eyes.  The deference in Zechs’ voice suggested he knew that he had pushed his boundaries a little far, and if he had realized, then that was enough… but it was so rare to see the prince offer a higher hand to someone else that he could enjoy the discomfort flashing briefly across the other’s face. 

            The prince’s eyes hardened slightly at the return, and Jake didn’t bother to hide his predatory smirk.  Zechs _knew_ that titles in private, delivered in that tone, meant he was treading dangerous ground.  _So he hasn’t forgotten **everything** , at least._ 

            Object lessons really _did_ stick. 

            He could feel Relena’s attention, even though she appeared unconcerned as she turned back, and he flashed her a true smile before focusing back on her brother, letting his body language speak for his mood.  He could feel Cassidy shifting, back and to the side, and Lincoln’s attention was almost palpable, but well-masked all the same.  A flush of pride ran through him as Zechs continued in his not quite sure of himself air.  Very few would be able to pick up on it, but spending your developmental years with someone had a way of leaving yourself open to them, especially when they had already been trained to read others’ thoughts at a glance – Zechs’ mask had only made him a more interesting challenge. 

            He had _good_ men…  They still needed some work, but the potential was all there, and they learned fast. 

            “Happy birthday,” Zechs muttered after another moment. 

            Pride was replaced by ice.  _No…_   “You’ve been talking to Jack,” he returned, feeling numb.  _Of course._   Zechs had never been close enough for him to realize how taboo the act would be. 

            And showing up unannounced like this…?  “I’m sorry, Relena,” he muttered, meeting the princess’s eyes.  _He wasn’t here to check up on her._   “This is my fault, apparently.”  Focusing back on her naïve _moron_ of a brother, he said, “I would appreciate it if you didn’t simply _trust_ anyone who asked a favor concerning me without asking for my opinion first.” 

            Well, okay, he’d said that a little more vehemently than was necessary.  _But **Jack**._  

            Zechs’ eyes narrowed, though not in anger.  “Everything checked out.” 

            “He’s exactly who he says he is,” Jake sneered back.  “That’s hardly the point.”  _Why couldn’t the asshole have been satisfied with a phone call or email, like usual?  I’m only doing something critically **important** this year, after all._  

            Closing his eyes, he forced himself to focus on taking a few deep, even breaths.  _I need to calm down…_   This was far from difficult to handle, really; he just had a bad habit of blowing everything concerning the man horribly out of proportion.  _I can do this._   He didn’t _want_ to, but if Jack had gone to such lengths, tolerating him for a few hours was the least he could do.  After all, if he’d known the man any other way, he’d probably like him.  He could acknowledge that.  And after all these years, they both _did_ owe the other _something_ …  They just didn’t deal with each other very well. 

            …At all. 

            Yet every year, Jack felt the need to make his token effort, even though Jake would much rather drop it as a lost cause. 

            “It’s your birthday?” Relena asked quietly. 

            Jake sighed, feeling the strength drain out of him, and gave her a tired smile.  “Tomorrow,” he admitted.  He didn’t mind her knowing… but he generally didn’t celebrate and he hadn’t wanted her to feel awkward about that.  He’d assumed Mitchell would let it slip to her sometime soon along with the explanation that it wasn’t a time he particularly looked forward to, as that was the kind of friend Dave was, helping the relationships near him slide easy, and then this could be done less awkwardly… but this was fine too, he supposed. 

            Relena had that same calming quality to her that Dave did, especially after saving those kids… she was just pleasant to be near.  If she wanted to make something out of it, like Dave often did, she knew how to do it without making him feel horrible.  Birthdays and holidays were times for family and trust, and Munich had made Relena fit that definition along with Dave now.  He could even admit that some part of him had secretly been hoping that the two of them might contrive some quiet affair once they were no longer on tour – it would be right up their alley. 

            Unfortunately, he had once admitted as much to Jack. 

            “How old will you be?” she asked gently, moving just a little into his personal space, and he could smell her… he could feel his mood lifting. 

            “Twenty-one,” he returned, smiling again at her, glad that she had this sway over him…  Maybe he could let Mitchell get as much sleep as he would want after all.  He had noticed the change in how she affected him after she had rushed to save Caleb; after she had taken the initiative, while he had been struck by the image of Hans collapsing to his knees sobbing, reliving his own despair at realizing Junior was really gone…. After she had insisted on taking action to keep the cycle from repeating. 

            Little, untrained Relena had saved the boy who had looked so much like Junior with her own hands… then tried to brush it off as _not enough_. 

            The comparison, the contrast between him and her… it had broken him all over again, that night.  He’d been in pieces standing there in the street, and instead of trying to correct him, she’d just _held_ him, soothed him and stayed a constant warm presence to rival Mitchell.  He’d _never_ felt so good as he had these past two weeks; the tension today was only so bad because it had snuck up on him for the first time in years, because he hadn’t remembered to dread it. 

            There was something special about Relena.  He’d known it before, but it was so apparent now that he didn’t want to spend time away from her.  Watching her grow was _mesmerizing_.  She wasn’t just leaning on him anymore, he was leaning back… and while on a more logical level that bothered him, he couldn’t seem to care. 

            And she was going to help him through this too.  Some part of his old pride stung that he would need help, but he had long ago realized he could accept it from Treize, then from Mitchell and Lu, and she had already done it before now. 

            Reaching over and squeezing the hand she had rested on his arm in concern, he smiled again, wanting to let her know that he was alright.  “Thank-you.”  _Maybe this won’t be so bad, this time._  

-

***

-

            Milliardo looked distinctly uncomfortable as Jake finally calmed himself down, and I gave him a pointedly dark look.  I was rewarded with a flash of guilt, followed by a suspicious frown that didn’t seem to be directed at anything in particular. 

            _So Milliardo had good intentions all the way through…_   Which only served to confuse me further, but I resolved that I would soon know in any case.  Whoever this ‘Jack’ was, my friend obviously wanted nothing to do with him, and the only other thing I had known to distress him was the kidnapping of those children.  My bodyguard was a largely fearless man, I understood, which made sense given his capabilities, but he just as obviously had his issues. 

            No one was completely stable – the past few years had taught me that.  Given the right circumstances, anyone could be toppled.  To be perfectly honest, something that could put Jacob Miller in such a state both scared me and made my blood boil, but he seemed to be all right for the moment, at least. 

            As if reading my thoughts, he let out another long breath and opened his eyes, his usual determination back in place.  “Well…  Let’s get going, then.”  I nodded and stepped back out of his space, giving my brother an arch look that indicated he ought to lead the way. 

-

***

-

**Sahara Desert**

            I finally let out my sigh of relief as we reached our enclosure, releasing my hold on Cory and slumping to the ground against the wall just inside the door; he slid with me, settling most naturally between my legs, his back to my chest.  He’d kept his silence through the exchange and trip back, for which I was grateful; the boy had a cool head.  A penchant for trouble and an unassailable ability to tie my nerves into knots, but a cool head. 

            He is one of the things that keeps me sane in this place, even while he drives me to madness. 

            He relaxed the moment I did, following my lead, resting his weight back against me now, and I took comfort in the trust, pressing my lips to the top of his head so he realizes that I appreciate the sentiment and return it.  He is familiar enough with me to know I need time to calm my head, to untie the knots strung through my heart and mind, and knows that his peaceful presence helps me get through it faster. 

            I like Cory so much as I do because of his easy acceptance of my strangeness, though it makes me wonder how much he really knows.  Breathing deeply, I muse, not for the first time, that perhaps it is the fantasy I entertain that he _does_ understand that draws me so close to him, even though logically I know there is no way that he possibly could. 

            Cory is not like me.  I know that much. 

            We sit there like that for a while, my heart slowing into its normal slow beat, my mental awareness dimming into a soft fuzz while I simply drink in the tranquility afforded to me here.  Cory’s weight against my chest is an anchor, pulling me under yet holding me steady. 

            If I had ever been one to indulge in substances, I suppose I would have sought the sort that induced this same lull of existence. 

            It is some time after I have regained my equilibrium and am merely enjoying his company that I hear my friend ask, “You okay, Robby?” 

            I sighed, resting my cheek against the top of his head and willing more relaxation into my body; I want to forget that I am capable of movement.  “You scared me,” I mumbled into his hair. 

            “I’m sorry,” he returned softly.  “I didn’t think the risk was very high, today.” 

            I twitched in irritation.  “It was Roshan,” I explained irritably, even while I refused to reengage my muscles.  “He’s dangerous.”  He didn’t have the deadly truth of my men, who knew that I played a game with everyone outside our circle, but on some subconscious level he’d recognized that something wasn’t all that it seemed.  I had done what I could to increase opinions of the notion that I was a violent megalomaniac, but so long as I was unsure of what held him to the belief that I wasn’t loyal, there were no guarantees. 

            I was willing to admit that I might be a little crazy, but it was vital that our superiors never learned how hard I was playing them, or we would all be dead. 

            “Sorry,” I grumbled, closing my eyes.  I hated this game… the stakes were too high.  I couldn’t afford to lose; there were too many people counting on me even if I had wanted to.  “I’m glad you’re okay,” I added after a moment. 

            Cory gripped my leg just above the knee briefly in response, before relaxing again… and maybe it would be alright to sleep off the rest of my anxiety. 

-

***

-

**Barcelona, Spain**

            When I first stepped into the room and saw him, I suppose I was shocked. 

            This was not to say that the man was unusual in any fashion; in fact, he was quite the opposite.  Standing at roughly 5’7, he was dressed in comfortable but neat dark jeans and a dark turtleneck and boots from some military or another.  He looked to be somewhere in his late thirties to mid forties.  His eyes were a rich milk chocolate and almond-shaped, his hair a dark brown and styled a little wildly, despite being exceedingly short.  His skin was a soft olive bronze.  There was just a hint of stubble on his cheeks, but it didn’t look so much like he forgot to shave as it simply gave him that rugged, distinctly _manly_ air that Dorothy liked to go on about.  While I was not _attracted_ to him, he was definitively handsome, and his muscular stance spoke of balance and confidence – he hadn’t bought those boots at a surplus store, they had been issued to him. 

            No, his appearance didn’t surprise me because he was outlandish in any way; in fact, I didn’t think I would be able to pick him out of a crowd.  What threw me for a loop was how this man that had Jake wrapped up in nerves was so very _ordinary_.  I knew how fearless my friend was, and had, quite frankly, been expecting a monster, not this kind-eyed, middle-aged man who looked to be of mixed Asian-Mediterranean descent. 

            His eyes lit up with easy pleasure when we came in, and he directed a smile at my brother and I first, cordially muttering our titles in greeting, before focusing his attention on Jake.  His voice was deep and slightly accented, though I couldn’t pin down the source of the nuances from so few words. 

            “Jack,” my bodyguard muttered politely.  He appeared to be casual on the surface, his stance relaxed, even, but I had _seen_ him truly laid back, and there was an underlying… _readiness_ , here.  I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what was different because he was mimicking his own body language perfectly, but somehow I could _tell_ that it was mimicry. 

            The man, Jack, grimaced slightly, but didn’t make any sort of enlightening comment as to why.  “Hey Jake, how’ve you been?” 

            “Busy,” Jake returned in an offhanded sort of way, leaning against the now closed door.  “Shouldn’t you be working?” 

            “I took the day off, and I don’t work weekends.” 

            “You shouldn’t have bothered.”  Jake’s tone was still politely friendly, but the message was clear. 

            Jack raised his brows, but instead of rising to the bait, he merely said, “Happy birthday.” 

            “Thank-you.”  His smile was superficial, but looked as though he might be trying just the same.  “Was there anything else?” 

            Jack scowled, getting annoyed.  “I came to spend some time with you.” 

            “I can’t skip out on my duties, sorry.”  His head was canted to the side, his smile a touch sheepish, his entire body giving off a helpless shrug and ‘sorry, nothing I can do to help you’ air. 

            The eyes narrowed.  “Your superior didn’t think there would be any problems if I tagged along for a while.” 

            “Milliardo was misinformed,” Jake returned easily, and I blinked; I was pretty sure that that was the first time the man had called my brother something other than Zechs, despite nearly everyone’s dismay at the way he insisted on the old pseudonym. 

            Jack squeezed his eyes shut, bringing a hand up to his face.  “Why do you always do this?” he asked wearily. 

            “Because you can’t seem to respect my opinions,” Jake returned sourly, crossing his arms.  “You _knew_ I wouldn’t approve you coming here if I’d known, but you still tricked my _friend_ into bringing you and compromising _another_ of my friends’ political maneuvering.” 

            “Jacob, I haven’t heard from you in _years_ ,” the older man snapped, glaring now.  “You don’t answer my calls, you don’t return my emails…  Hell, I was just reading the _obituaries_ for months after _Libra_ until I finally managed to get _David’s_ number and heard you were still breathing!” 

            “If I don’t want to talk to you, that’s my business,” Jake returned coldly. 

            “God, Jake, I just want to spend some time with you sometimes, alright?”  Jack seemed more tired than anything now, bringing one hand up to cover his eyes again.  “I know you don’t like me, but I still _care_ , even when we don’t agree.  Throw me a fuckin’ bone now and again, will you?” 

            And Jake sighed, suddenly looking just as tired as his visitor.  “Why can’t you ever try doing this some other time of the year?” he asked.  “Why not the spring, or the summer, or if you _have_ to be sentimental about it, how about Christmas?  Why always _this_ time of year?” 

            “I didn’t think you’d _have_ me for Christmas,” Jack returned darkly, the glare back in place, though his stance was more defensive now. 

            “I actually wouldn’t mind Christmas,” the blonde man argued mildly, rubbing at his forehead.  “Not that that’s an invitation to show up uninvited, but if you’d just leave me _alone_ in the fall I wouldn’t be so against having any plans with you, old man.” 

            I frowned.  _Old man?_  

            Jack grimaced slightly, but he seemed happier too.  “I’d like that,” he returned quietly. 

            There was silence for a moment before Jake let out another sigh.  “Well, you’re here now, I guess, you might as well stay.  I trust Zechs already made arrangements?”  At his nod, he nodded a little to himself before turning to me, nibbling slightly at his lower lip.  “Alright.  You’ve already met Mr. Peacecraft, but this is the princess, the woman I have the honor of protecting: Relena Darlian-Peacecraft.” 

            “A pleasure,” I greeted, stepping forward to shake Jack’s calloused hand.  He smiled, and those friendly eyes shone thankfulness my way, probably for simply dismissing the scene I had just witnessed, and I returned the smile.  There was something familiar about his grin, though… 

            “Relena,” Jake continued, “I’d like you to meet Jack Miller.” 

-

***

-

**Tirana, Albania**

            “We should see a movie,” Marlé suggested idly, kicking her legs in a bored fashion. 

            Odin shrugged, nibbling at the ‘drumstick’ ice cream.  It seemed bizarre to liken a scoop of vanilla ice cream, coated in chocolate and nuts and placed on a waffle cone to chicken, but Marlé had a point about it being good.  “We can’t leave until we finish here,” he pointed out. 

            “I meant after,” she explained easily, staring up at the ceiling with a faraway look. 

            He shrugged; they had already checked for all signs of Leia in this city, and he supposed it was an acceptable enough way to spend the evening, if that was what she wanted to do.  “I’ve never been to a movie theater,” he admitted. 

            “Not once?” 

            He shrugged.  “I was never very interested… and when something intrigued either my father or myself, we downloaded it.”  Thinking about it a moment longer, he added, “I think so many people close together in the dark, without any security worried him too much.” 

            She bit the inside of one cheek.  “From what you’ve said, I don’t think he would have wanted to go in unarmed, either.” 

            He smirked a little.  “Odin could get a rocket launcher through colonial port security,” he admitted. 

            “They don’t really look through the checked baggage, I guess,” she noted. 

            “That was carryon,” he contradicted.  “He disliked the idea of anyone else handling our things.” 

            She looked over at him questioningly.  “He carried a waffle iron through carryon too?” 

            “Port personal often commented ton his eccentricity.”  Shifting slightly, he added, “The iron came apart, and the casing was shielded…  While traveling, he kept my gun in it.” 

            She pursed her lips.  “Yeah, I would never think to look there,” she admitted. 

            “He was a creative man,” Heero agreed.  Offering her the ice cream, she took it and started to nibble at the sweet herself. 

            They were in a laundromat, sitting on top of two currently unused dryers, watching the majority of their clothes swish in soapy water through the clear plastic pane on the washer in front of them. 

            _It’s the simple, mundane things that make life unique,_ Odin mused, watching the soothing swirl of water and fabric.  He hadn’t felt this kind of peace since before Odin’s death, and perhaps not even then.  Despite the horrible state of the world and abounding dangers, life while traveling with Marlé was… pleasant.  Comfortable, maybe even content.  **_This_** _was what I was fighting for,_ he decided, reaching out a hand to take the ice cream back.  There was no questioning it any longer… this was peace, despite the surrounding strife. 

            Marlé took one last nibble of ice cream before passing it back.  “What are you thinking about?” 

            He considered how he wanted to answer.  “The definition of happiness,” he declared after a moment, licking a dribble of ice cream before it could reach his hand. 

            She smiled, looking back up to the ceiling.  “Anything conclusive?” she asked loftily. 

            “I believe so.” 

            The girl made an amused sort of noise in the back of her throat and didn’t press him, which in turn made him smile. 

            He liked how she made him happy for no reason at all. 

            “Odin?” 

            “Mm?” 

            “That… isn’t the woman who put her stuff in the dryer ten minutes ago.” 

            He glanced in the direction Marlé was frowning in… and she had a point, he doubted the scruffy looking woman was of any relation to the harried but tidy mother of three who had momentarily run out. 

            “She’s trying to _take_ their clothes,” Marlé muttered, aghast. 

            Odin considered, glancing back at their washer.  _No one would want them until they’ve at least rinsed,_ he decided after a moment.  And it wasn’t as if they were leaving the building.  Shrugging a little, he stood up, flicking his eyes back in the direction of the woman hurriedly shoving the somewhat dry clothes into a laundry basket… to which Marlé stood on top of her own perch and casually bounded over to the other aisle. 

            He smirked a little, following around the long way.  They hardly needed speed or the element of surprise with this situation – the woman was harmless – but he _did_ appreciate Marie’s exuberance.  She was doing the right thing; she could go all-out if she wanted to.  He knew full well how good it felt to get one’s blood moving quickly, and Marie could use the practice. 

            _I should start trying to show her parkour soon._   She was becoming agile enough with their dodging and ambush games that some of the more basic movements would come easily now.  Her marksmanship was moving along quickly as well, and he was starting to debate whether it would be worthwhile to get her her own gun. 

            “Excuse me, but that’s not yours.” 

            Odin felt a warm feeling spread through his chest at the polite words; Marlé knew the worth of restraint.  _Make no bigger a scene than necessary._   The last thing they wanted was undue attention. 

            “Mind your own business, brat,” the woman sneered dismissively, starting to move past her. 

            Marlé firmly stepped back into her path.  “Mind your own, and put that family’s things back in the dryer.” 

            The woman sneered again, and started to mutter darkly in the local language before reaching out to grab at the young girl’s wrist. 

            Marlé looked incredulous as she fluidly avoided the grab, seemingly shocked that the woman would even _try_.  He simply shrugged when she looked to him disbelievingly, which caused the dark-haired woman to look back over her shoulder then jump when she realized he was behind her.  When she continued to stare at him fearfully, he raised his brows in a silent question.  Marlé had already covered what they wanted; there was no need for him to put in the effort of calling her out as well.  It was obvious enough from his stance that he agreed. 

            She huffed in obvious annoyance and stormed past him, slamming the basket down on top of a washer in an idiotic display of temper.  He supposed, however, if one was powerless, maybe those little things helped… 

            …and while he was busy considering her as completely non-threatening, she kicked him. 

            His leg _exploded_ in pain and he grit his teeth as his vision dimmed and blurred.  It was just another of those thoughtless little tantrum movements, but it _hurt_ , the whole of his injury flaring angrily – she’d managed to hit one of that spots that was pure scar tissue after the third degree burns.  The throbbing contrasted harshly with his heartbeat, and it took him a few moments to regain his bearings, even though he had kept himself from visibly flinching. 

            The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him, and he shook his head a little, lips twitching into a slight smirk as he disassociated his mind from the pain.  _I probably deserved that._   Dismissing her as he had, she had certainly opened his eyes, however accidentally.  A blow to one’s pride periodically was healthy, really. 

            “You-!” Marlé snarled, and Odin caught hold of her before she could finish the movements he had taught her for attacking, allowing the woman to scurry away unhindered.  His interference caught her off guard, and she wasted a moment staring at him in confusion before countering his hold and breaking free, which made a warm feeling spread through his stomach that he decided to embrace instead of ignoring alongside the pain.  Marlé had proven herself a fast learner, and on top of her proven competence she was only trying to defend _him_ in the first place.  _She cares…_  

            They were becoming as much of a family as he and Odin had been, before Odin died.  That was good too, following in his father’s footsteps; it was very _right_ somehow.  Marlé’s entrance into his life had fulfilled him in ways he hadn’t realized he could ever need to be…  And he mattered to her too; she looked up to him much the same way as he had to the first Odin. 

            “It’s not worth it,” he explained quietly as the woman slammed the laundromat door behind her.  “If there’s nothing to be gained, it’s best to let the problem go.”  Reaching out and pulling her to him slightly in a motion that had become familiar, easy even over the past few weeks, he added, “If your emotions rule you, then strangers can dictate your actions.  It’s a bad habit.” 

            “But you _follow_ your heart and emotions,” she protested. 

            He smiled slightly to hear Odin’s words quoted back to him, as he had quoted them to her.  “You would have regretted hurting her, Marlé,” he reminded her softly.  Mariemaia was a compassionate soul in a great number of ways; a sign that she had been raised properly, in his opinion.  “Temper isn’t always heart.” 

            The girl let out a sigh and nodded in understanding, resting her weight against him briefly before pulling away to put the clothes back in the dryer.  He smiled again as he watched her… and turned to lick at the ice cream before it could dribble onto his hand. 

-

***

-

**Barcelona, Spain**

            “I thought you said he didn’t have any family.” 

            Mitchell grimaced a little at my pointed question, glancing obliquely over in the direction of the two men we were talking about.  “Jack doesn’t count.” 

            I gave him an annoyed look, though I made sure to keep my voice down.  I was confused and wanted _some_ semblance of an answer for the strained relationship I’d been witnessing all day, but I didn’t want to make a scene.  This was obviously hard enough on Jake as it was without my meddling. 

            But I didn’t want to be left in the dark, either.  “They _are_ related, though?” 

            Again, that grimace, as though something had left a sour taste in his mouth.  “Yeah.  Technically speaking, they’re father and son.” 

            “Technically speaking,” I returned flatly. 

            “As in half of Jake’s genes come from him,” my secondary bodyguard returned just as flatly. 

            I frowned.  “Why are they like this?” 

            He scowled this time.  “Because taking you away from the man who raised you doesn’t validate respect, no matter how much blood you have in common.” 

            Realization dawned.  “Jack didn’t raise him.” 

            “He was in _jail_ until Jake turned seven,” Mitchell confirmed.  He bit his lip.  “How’s he been holding up?” 

            I frowned.  “He’s been mimicking being casual.” 

            My friend chuckled, amused.  “Oh, you can tell now…”  He shook his head a little.  “How irritable has he been?” 

            I gave that some serious consideration.  “I’m not sure…  I _think_ I’ve seen him worse some mornings when he didn’t get enough sleep.”  Looking into Mitchell’s face, I explained, “He’s not as obvious about it, but he’s still talking.”  That was something I had learned over the course of the tour – when Jake realized he was being an ass for no reason, he would stop talking as a form of damage control.  He even managed to smile while doing it, to pass off a different impression, but if he was silent, he was either exhausted or annoyed beyond belief.  Even when entirely focused on something, he had a habit of muttering under his breath. 

            David frowned.  “He hasn’t gone quiet?” 

            “Not like he usually does, no.”  Expecting the news to relieve the man, I became suspicious when he continued to look uncertain.  “What?” 

            “Well, either you’re amazing, or this is going downhill a lot harder and faster than I thought it was.” 

            Deciding to just ignore the compliment I normally would have protested, I focused on the point of the comment.  “How can him talking be bad?” 

            “Uh… you didn’t know him when he was younger,” David muttered almost incoherently, running his fingertips over his palms in his own variation of clenching his hands.  _That_ made my stomach drop a little more; the gesture or shift in speech by themselves would have been telling enough, but the two together… part of it was probably that it revolved around his best friend, but all the same… 

            “How is Jacob _not_ going quiet potentially bad?” I guided once he didn’t seem inclined to continue. 

            He bit at his lip slightly, not looking at me.  “He started doing that because Noin _asked_ him to, Relena.” 

            “Asked him to what?” I asked, starting to feel oddly numb. 

            He chuckled a little darkly, rubbing at his arm.  “To not be happily laughing with someone, then snapping their bones a moment later.” 

            “…What?”  The idea just… didn’t quite work. 

            “He’s different now…  He changed a _lot_ as he grew up, Relena,” Mitchell was explaining rather quickly now.  “You know the man he’s become, and he’s alright, but…”  He bit his lip.  “I want you to promise me that if he starts acting a little out of sorts, you stand _back_.” 

            “You did _not_ just suggest what I think you did,” I hissed back at him, instantly furious. 

            “No, he wouldn’t hurt _you_ ,” Mitchell negated.  “But it _would_ make it all worse.” 

            I frowned.  “Worse how?” 

            “…I _really_ hope there’s never any need for an explanation there, Lena.”  He was biting his lip again, looking in the direction Jake and his _father_ had gone in.  He seemed to consider for a moment before adding, “Probably the most important thing you can do to try to keep him calm, is don’t give Jack any excuse to disapprove…” 

            “Disapprove?” 

            “Of anything Jake might value,” Mitchell elaborated.  “If it looks like it might be heading that way, try to redirect…  and if you can, stay close enough that Jake can smell you.” 

            “… _What_?” 

            “It helps keep him from feeling like he’s being backed into a corner,” the soldier explained blithely. 

            I couldn’t decide how to react to that.  “He _smells_ people?” 

            His lips twitched a little.  “You can’t?” 

            “Maybe if they need a _shower_ ,” I retorted, trying to figure out if I was offended or not. 

            “You have a nice smell,” Mitchell protested, apparently seeing my dilemma.  “It’s…  soft.”  Gesturing slightly, he tried to describe what he meant.  “Sweet, but still soft like rain.” 

            “…Soft like rain,” I repeated, bewildered. 

            “You seriously can’t smell pheromones?”  He was almost petulant, now. 

            “Pheromones.” 

            “Everyone has a scent,” he tried to explain, though he was practically whining, upset that I obviously wasn’t buying into what he was telling me.  “Everybody’s is different, same as, like… fingerprints.  It’s signature.” 

            “Signature.” 

            He made a frustrated sort of noise that was almost _cute_.  “You never wanted to hold something of your mom or dad’s close when you were little, because taking a deep breath while you had it in your arms just made you feel _good_?” 

            I frowned.  “I have…”  I hadn’t ever really tried to think about why beyond appreciation of the sentiment, but it was hard to remember. 

            David rolled his eyes in an exasperated fashion and started down the hall, gesturing for me to follow.  I shook my head a little and did so, mostly just amused at this point. 

            Not far away, Jake and Jack were muttering quietly at each other.  My bodyguard looked more sad than anything… sad and tired.  Seeing him like that, I decided that Mitchell really _had_ to be overreacting, and relaxed from tension I hadn’t even realized I possessed.  Today had been so stressful for him, for reasons I didn’t understand anywhere near enough of to possibly begin to alleviate- 

            “Oi, Jake, what does she smell like?” 

            _…He did **not** just…  Oh my **God** , I’m going to **die**!_  

            Jake blinked in apparent surprise, but before all the blood in my body could pool in the vicinity of my face, he returned, “Sweet water.” 

            I blinked at him, and glanced back at David to see him nodding thoughtfully.  _Okay…_   Maybe it wasn’t that embarrassing, all things considered.  It sounded more like a compliment. 

            The exhaustion was falling away from Jake’s appearance now as he turned to David, looking vaguely amused.  “What did you _say_?” 

            “I said she smelled _nice_ ,” the brunette defended. 

            “‘Soft like rain,’ is a little vague,” I noted, crossing my arms. 

            “Soft and sweet is _good_ , that’s just… common sense,” the soldier continued to whine. 

            “Let it be known that Lena is hardly a poet,” Jake muttered dryly, his eyes dancing. 

            “How can something smell _soft_?” I argued, deciding I didn’t mind not waning into the impracticality of poetry. 

            “Pheromones don’t smell like normal things, most of the time,” Jake explained, shrugging a little.  “The general words you use don’t match.  Most people only put together that maybe someone smells ‘nice’ or ‘dangerous,’ cold or intoxicating.  It’s…”  He waved a hand slightly.  “Subtle.  Even out of the people who can consciously smell them, they usually only learn to recognize a few in their lifetimes.”  His contemplative sort of smile widened into a smirk as he gestured at his friend,  “Dave here is a damn _dog_ though, he could _track_ someone by a coat they’ve been wearing if I told him to.” 

            Mitchell rolled his eyes, though he was obviously grinning at the praise.  “I can _not_ …”  Looking back in my direction, he explained, “I can _recognize_ someone by their scent if I’ve met them before, and I can tell whether or not a _coat_ ,” at this he glared half-heartedly at Jake, “-belongs to a person I’ve met, but I can’t follow it through the damn air.” 

            The blonde man shook his head a little.  “I’m not that good with it,” he elaborated further, meeting my eyes again.  “I can differentiate and put words to it better than Dave, but I have to sit and really _think_ to get more than an acknowledgement of whether someone I like or not is near me.” 

            “What do I smell like?” Jack asked, seemingly bemused.  I frowned as I noticed his son’s dark blue eyes darken slightly as he _very_ neutrally looked back to the man. 

            “Pepper,” he related in that purposefully easy voice, even as all the relaxation drained back out of him. 

            David nodded in agreement.  “A little stark and none of the usual musk, which is strange on its own, and very attention-getting.” 

            “Attention-getting?” 

            Jake’s oldest friend bit his lip as he tried to address my question.  “Like… almost impossible to ignore.  It dominates, covers up or changes all the scents around it.” 

            “Invasive,” I scarcely heard Jake mutter under his breath, shifting uncomfortably.  Either it was quiet enough that Jack couldn’t hear, or the older man was ignoring the comment… and I decided to try again what I had done earlier. 

            I stepped ever so slightly through the borders of my friend’s personal space. 

            He inhaled deeply, though not in an overly obvious way, and seemed to relax a little, some of the usual light coming back into his eyes.  _Huh._   I could see Mitchell smiling just a _little_ smugly from the corner of my eye and lowered my jaw slightly in acknowledgment, to which he tilted his head in a fashion that meant he was supremely proud of himself. 

            _…When did we all learn to have full conversations with movements most people would never notice?_

            Leaving that thought for later contemplation, I turned an apologetic smile on Mr. Miller.  “I’m sorry, but there are a few points I need to go over with Jake that are of a confidential nature before dinner with the Iberian Council.  We’ll see you for breakfast, won’t we?” 

            The fact that my friend was trying _so_ hard to mask his delight at my impromptu escape was incredibly amusing, even if it was sad too. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam** **, Netherlands**

            _“‘Say, say oh playmate, come on and play with me, you and your dollies three…’”_

            Chaos watched Melissa bounce Renee on her lap, keeping the baby both entranced and giggly as she held fast to the woman, her tiny hands fisted around his girlfriend’s index fingers.  It was a cute scene, especially since Renee had been born with a full head of golden blonde hair that was bouncing about with her, and the child had the rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes they gave all the babies in fairytales.  Rina and Luc were at their respective workplaces, and Renee had woken up maybe an hour ago; and she was finally getting to the age where she did slightly more than eat and sleep. 

            And the little girl _loved_ the attention showered on her by the Devils. 

            _“‘Climb up my apple tree…  Slide down my rainbow, and through the cellar door…’”_

            She had been able to hold her head steady for a little while now… and he had mostly gotten used to the child’s constant flush.  But… 

            _“‘And we’ll be jolly friends, forever more… more more!’”_  The baby giggled more as Melissa bounced her a little harder for the last two words, and the Dutch woman smiled broadly, leaning forward to rub noses with her.  A few of the other Devils laughed or offered some amusing commentary, to which ‘Liss alternately rolled her eyes and laughed.  “I haven’t had a good excuse for that one in _years_ , come on,” she protested after a moment, switching back into Dutch.  Turning to him, she asked, “So, Kay, our English expert, did I say anything wrong?” 

            Duo smiled a little weakly, but shook his head.  No, the rhyme had come out fine despite the heavy Dutch accent, but that granted it a more musical quality that he had liked. 

            Melissa frowned, though she kept bouncing her knees slightly, keeping the baby occupied.  “What’s wrong?” she asked softly. 

            He grimaced slightly, shaking his head a little… though he _did_ wonder how many kids from his particular colony cluster had heard that version of it.  He remembered wanting to throw up the first time he had heard a pair of little girls singing it while playing some sort of clap game… 

 

-

            _‘Say, say oh playmate,_

_I cannot play today._

_My dolly’s got the beets,_

_You’d better beat it too!_

_Let’s hit the store now,_

_They’ll sell us Icie there,_

_And we’ll be jolly friends,_

_Forever more!’_  

-

 

            He was glad to know the rhyme had a different version; he’d just about bolted when she first started.  It was even kinda cute, when it wasn’t about the plague that had killed almost half of his home.  With all his god of death talk as a child, he had never quite had the nerve to admit to Father Maxwell how much the rhyme bothered him… and while he hadn’t heard it in years, he’d barely been able to fight down the overwhelming urge to lose his stomach at the beginning words. 

            Melissa’s version, with that sing-song accent her English always carried didn’t quite calm him down… but it was mostly okay.  It was like when Renee had been laughing or crying too hard, so she turned the same bright red that had been the sweating signature and rash of the deadly fever that had once killed two out of three.  Solo had been the last of the older kids in their crew to catch it, leaving _him_ in charge of the other four who survived… 

            He started when Melissa touched his arm, frowning and offering Renee, who he took without really thinking about it, then smiled as he realized ‘Liss was offering her out of sheer distraction.  He made a few faces at her before passing her back, muttering to his girl that he was going to go for a walk. 

            It wasn’t until he was outside that he realized he didn’t know _why_ he wanted to walk.  It wasn’t until he was almost a block away that he realized that walking wasn’t going to cut it, and he broke into a run.  Soon enough, his hair was whipping out behind him like a banner and he was just letting his feet guide him… 

            He slowed as he reached the waterfront, coming to a walk as he reached the railing and gripped it with both hands as he looked out to the docked boats.  Twilight had been coming to pass as he left the Den and the business for the day was done… 

            …The water was both soothing and horribly upsetting at the same time. 

            Feeling his heart clench in his chest, he turned away from the railing even though his chest was still heaving and began to run again without any real aim, deeper into the parts of the city he didn’t know so well because it had been Slinger territory before…  _…Has it really been more than two months since I took them down?_  

            He stumbled and his shoulder bumped into a wall… he was in an alley.  Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, sliding down the thing into a crouch before giving into the fact that he _needed_ to rest and settling his back against the stone.  He tilted his head back before opening his eyes to stare at the night sky… 

            …It was so damn _blue_. 

            Duo’s breath caught as that clicked, as he realized he was looking for the half-light reflections twinkling the city lights back at him off the dimmed panels on the mirrored hub of the outer wheel…  Why the view of the ocean made his stomach twist. 

            “God _damn it_!” he found himself muttering hoarsely, slapping a hand against the ground.  “This isn’t fair…”  _In just one more week, I’ll have been in this city for a year…  So why can’t I get away?_   No matter what he did, it kept coming back to haunt him, now almost as much as when he had first arrived.  Everything he came across reminded him of something from the past, even as he settled in deeper and started to really… to really get _happy_. 

            He closed his eyes again, grinding his nails into the grime of the street.  He had been here for a _year_ , and everything was so different…  He was taking care of people in a completely nonviolent way, which was nothing like he’d ever done before.  He was helping _take care_ of a church, though he would otherwise willingly admit the parallels to Maxwell.  He was, like, _everyone’s_ big brother, both with the church kids and the Devils, especially Rina and Amos.  He constantly saw the parallels between Luc and Solo, but that really was separate in its own way because Solo had been so young, and he knew Luc like the back of his hand while he had just followed Solo like the beacon of light that he was without asking questions.  And then there was Melissa… 

            _Melissa._   Some days, it was starting to feel like ‘Liss was what made his world go ‘round, almost like Prof. G had, only not in that sadistic, ‘work your ass off or they’ll never find the body’ way.  She just… was this necessary component of his life somehow.  Going without ‘Liss would be like trying to run a combustion engine without some kind of radiator, only that didn’t make _sense_ because she’d only _been_ there for the past year and he’d only started to _need_ her on some level since May… 

            _Almost four months,_ he mused.  _Been going out since June sometime…_   Only three months max, but it felt like it had _always_ been like this, now.  Shaking his head a little, he rose to his feet, sighing and looking up at the sky again. 

            …It looked so _flat_. 

            Why couldn’t he just forget already?  _I have a whole new life…  Why won’t the old one stop haunting me?_   Was it really like had told the Father all those months ago, that his slate could never be wiped clean?  He had started to believe he might be wrong about that; that maybe everything could simply be made new.  But the sky was still empty, Sister Isabel still looked like _Helen_ , and he still had nightmares pulled straight from the events of the war and before.  Sometimes it just made his blood boil, because…  _Damnit_ , _aren’t I trying hard enough?!  Am I just not **good** enough?_  

            He glared at the wall in front of him, gripping his hands into fists again.  No matter what he said or how he felt like sometimes, he _knew_ that he deserved the life he had now; that he’d earned it with hard work and time spent here.  It certainly wasn’t perfect but this life was _his_ , and God himself wasn’t going to find some loophole to steal it all away this time!  With that last thought, he stepped forward and slammed his fist into the wall- 

            _…Okay, that was just stupid._  

            Muttering darkly and shaking his hand out, he couldn’t help but laugh a little at the stupidity of the whole bit, freaking out for no reason whatsoever and running his ass all the way out to… well, wherever he was…  _Ah shit, that is **not** bleeding…  Man, of all the things I had to get pissed at and deal one to, I pick a **wall**?  I am **so** losing my touch…_  

            “Oh man, that _hurts_ …” 

-

***

-

**September 16 th 197 ** **– Saturday – Barcelona, Spain**

            Relena smiled as she shook hands with Senator Delgado in farewell, and her pleasure was genuine.  Really, this tour had been nothing _but_ success, even if it had been heavily intermixed with nauseating amounts of red tape and pure chaos.  She had had more fun than she had imagined possible despite the difficulties, and felt like she could take on the entire world if she had to… which was an incredibly breathtaking feeling. 

            It wasn’t all ideas now – it was actually spinning into reality.  They had left behind the concepts for a full-fledged endeavors with achievable goals, however far-reaching. 

            Just the same, however, she was glad to be going back to the base on Monday.  They would be in Paris in a few hours and dive into that pit before they finished, but they were close.  Milliardo was headed to the spaceport to catch a shuttle up to L-3 half an hour before she was slated to depart, taking his unwelcome influences with him.  Jake had managed to lose most of his tension after they parted form Jack’s company last night, and even though he was wound tight as a spring again now, she had seen enough of the shifting to be sure that Mitchell’s warning about their friend didn’t hold water.  She was still doing her best to follow the advice he had given because the efforts obviously calmed the blonde colonel, but it had nothing to do with fear. 

            Mr. Miller was going to finish his weekend in Barcelona before returning to his vocation… which she actually hadn’t asked about.  Smiling at another delegate and making arrangements for further communication, she considered that, realizing how strange it was that she hadn’t thought to ask… 

            …or that she really didn’t care what the man did. 

            Dorreane’s assistant, Juan Colello, made an amusing slur about one of the people he worked with on a daily basis that she chuckled at when normally she would have just smiled, because really… she didn’t _mind_ Jack Miller.  He was a nice enough man, she just… 

            …really couldn’t make herself _care_. 

            He had hurt her friend, that much was clear, and while in some corner of her mind she was muttering that it wasn’t fair of her to base her opinion off of that, she couldn’t come up with a single reason to put forward the effort.  It was an odd feeling, she decided, but… strengthening, too.  She hadn’t been so impartially loyal to a person since…  Well, since her father had died. 

            Jake backed her in everything she did; it felt good to be able to be _his_ foundation for once.  It was… emboldening.  She was more than just words now, the past few weeks had proven that, but she was more than a politician too, more than the head of a new movement.  She was a true _friend_ … and she had never really had that before.  Everyone in school had always deferred to her, even the _teachers_ half the time, and while her father had allowed her to accompany him on business trips after her thirteenth birthday, she had merely been tagging along as a virtual apprentice.  She and her mother had never been particularly close for all that they cared for each other… 

            She swallowed hard, turning as though debating if she forgot something at her seat and closing her eyes briefly to hold in the tears.  She was mostly past it now, with so much time left to brood until she had no tears left and nothing to remind her… but the woman who had raised her, who had woken her up every morning and baked with her, taught her everything she knew of etiquette and how to dance…  Her _mother_ , who had been everything a mother was supposed to be and more, had been staying with a friend near the capital of Peru when _Libra_ fell. 

            The tidal wave caused by the initial debris had listed the population of the entire country as an immediate casualty. 

            Her brother had used that grief as another of his excuses for sending her away; though why he thought that going on vacation where all she could do was _brood_ was better than burying herself in something practical was beyond her… 

            She still hadn’t really forgiven him for that. 

            “Lena?” 

            “I’m fine,” she returned under her breath at Jake’s worried whisper.  “Memories, that’s all.”  He hummed a soft understanding noise and left it at that… which she was grateful for.  Turning a smile on him and nudging him with one elbow, causing him to smile too, she headed back toward the doors. 

            “Looking forward to going home?” he asked quietly. 

            She grimaced.  The base in Brussels had never been ‘home,’ merely… a base of operations.  It hadn’t even ceased to be unsettling, even, until-  “I miss Dorothy,” she admitted instead.  As much as the other woman irritated her, she enjoyed the easy company and wit, enjoyed not having to worry about how she was perceived… and while she had that from others now too, Jake and Mitchell and the rest of the bodyguard contingent, Dorothy had been the first… and, quite frankly, the bodyguards were all _men_. 

            They had talked on the phone a few times over the past six weeks, but she was _constantly_ busy… and the few times she found herself free and able to call, Dorothy hadn’t answered.  _She probably took advantage of our absence by starting to keep the hours she always complained about not getting, sleeping until at least ten in the morning,_ she thought fondly. 

            “Aa,” Jake returned in understanding… setting her mind spinning on him in particular, again.  He had always used that odd pronunciation instead of the more common ‘ah’ and she had dismissed it as one of his quirks before, but Jack did the same thing, and with his accent, she was beginning to suspect it was more of a language variation than singular oddity.  English was Jake’s first language, she felt sure, but he had admitted a few weeks ago that he spoke more than a few… and she would put money down that English _wasn’t_ Jack’s first. 

            _Speaking of…_   Jack was waiting for them as soon as they broke from the crowd.  Jake growled slightly, and Relena couldn’t help but agree…  She was relatively sure the man was harmless – he _had_ passed Milliardo’s inspection, after all – but he was definitely some form of ex-military or resistance group, you could tell by the way he moved, and rumors had a way of cropping up.  _Well, not really, not about something so minor, and the press isn’t here anyway, but the principles still stand._   She glanced significantly at her friend, and his returning nod was fractional before he took a few long strides ahead of her to meet the man. 

            He leaned oh so casually on the wall, his arm set out straight to the side of his father’s head, bearing… well, not as much of his weight as most people would set on it, because he could still maneuver with only a split second’s notice. 

            _How does one learn to be so incredibly genial yet utterly intimidating at the same time?_   Heero had always just been intimidating.  Duo and Quatre had only come across as genial, despite what they were capable of.  _Milliardo can do it too, though…  And Une and Treize._  

            They were talking in low, terse tones now, but she couldn’t make out any of the words, their voices were too quiet.  She took a few steps forward herself, though smaller ones, curious and wanting to see if they _were_ speaking a language she knew.  Jack snarled something she couldn’t follow, and, still trying to not make it obvious what she was doing, she leaned forward slightly as Jake cut him off. 

            _“Watashi wa-”_  

            She backed away as casually as she had moved forward, her curiosity sated.  _They’re part Japanese, then,_ she decided.  _Though Jake’s mother had to have been Caucasian, for him to look as he does._   Jack certainly wasn’t fully-blooded, after all, and she had only noticed her friend _wasn’t_ white when he had started to tan golden instead of brown.  Given all that…  _They’re probably from L1._  

            Jack shoved his son away and didn’t quite glower at her as he apologized for being out of bounds.  Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at him, she politely accepted the apology that he obviously didn’t mean. 

-

***

-

**Treize’s hidden compound**

            Treize let out a hiss as he lashed out at another dummy with his right practice blade, throwing as much strength as possible into the strike.  He had finally heard back from the self-dubbed ‘Adam’ that Váli had emailed him about, and the news had been far more mixed than he could have hoped for. 

            Others had noticed Váli’s loophole in the Peacecraft Regime’s digital security.  That was probably fine, even _intended_ , but he needed to send through the grapevine that more subtlety was needed all the same; half the advantage of accessing their information so freely was that Zechs had no idea that it might be happening. 

            ‘Adam’ was the young man Alekseev had identified as helping Chang Xutao escape his pursuers.  He freely admitted as much, as well as the fact that he had done so because at the time he either had not known or did not trust what he had heard of Treize’s intentions with the boy.  He seemed disinclined to specify which of these was the case, and which belief he currently held to.  He also admitted to holding no interest in joining either of the prominent rebel groups, or even facilitating a degree of communication between Treize and Po ‘at this particular time.’ 

            As always, men like him gave their trust sparingly.  At least it made sense how Chang completely mislead those chasing him. 

            However, Adam claimed to know nothing about the bug in Alekseev’s phone.  He had happily revealed that he knew far more about the man and his family than was reasonable, but had suggested that he had better ways of keeping tabs on the double agent than a very short-range transmitter. 

            Treize continued moving through the form, sliding from one movement to the next.  He could not yet find a discernable reason for Adam to be lying about that, but while that didn’t rule out the possibility, it seemed likely that the man’s confusion was genuine.  If that was the case, however, it opened the question back up as to exactly who _else_ had been interfering.  Someone had to have followed Ivan closely for an undetermined amount of time without rousing any suspicion, which was impressive even if Alekseev wasn’t the most observant individual. 

            And whoever had done it had proof that Treize wasn’t exactly as dead as the papers proclaimed him.  _That_ worried him, though he had decided to keep the old phone number Alekseev contacted him through connected, if not as a direct line to himself.  It was unusable now, but it might eventually prove to be a line of communication to whoever Alekseev’s stalker was. 

            And Mariemaia was on Earth… probably, at least.  Adam had done his own extensive search immediately after losing her only to conclude that she had disappeared more perfectly than she ought to have been capable of doing by herself, almost instantly.  It was completely up in the air as to where this aid may have come from, who had her now, but it was more than simply _nothing_ , even if the news wasn’t particularly helpful.  Unless a relatively powerful group was responsible for her latest disappearance, it was unlikely she could leave eastern Europe, and while that was still a massive search range, it _was_ narrowed somewhat.  Dekim had had more recent photographs of his daughter to work with, and he had already directed more people and funds into a renewed search effort.  He had found no traces so far of another political group trying to use her, so it seemed likely that it was something smaller – more personal in some fashion, which could either be horrifying or healthy, depending on _who_ had her. 

            Sending an anchored dummy _flying_ with his left practice blade, he reflected that he had been trying to _not_ think about that. 

            Adam had offered to be more helpful if he was given a phone number he could call if immediate information was available to him that would also be useful to Treize, or potentially for Adam to call for assistance in a pinch.  He refused to carry a phone regularly for fear of tracking through it, but said that from time to time he would acquire contract-free cells with a prepaid amount of minutes on them.  He had even offered to use a particular brand when he did so, so that Treize could quickly track his current location through a feed in the company, if he wanted. 

            It wasn’t ideal, but it was far from a bad offer; Treize had accepted. 

            “Sir?” 

            He finished the motion he was in the middle of and stopped, bringing the dull blades up so that, if they were real, the flat of each sword would rest against the back of his neck before the blades crossed in a scissoring motion.  He spun fluidly at the same time, turning a calm and mildly curious expression that was completely at odds with his torment and sweat soaked body on the soldier who had called to him. 

            Instead of being nervous, as most would, the man – Lance Pagnopta, he remembered – grinned broadly, his body taught with… excitement, it looked like, along with the usual awe.  Treize grinned back at him spontaneously, glad for a little camaraderie instead of pure subservience, before bringing the weapons down and moving to put them away.  “Captain Pagnopta, what can I do for you?” 

-

***

-

**Barcelona, Spain**

            “I’ll see you back in Brussels after we both finish our business,” Relena agreed, hugging her brother and moving back out into the hall to let him finish gathering the few things he had let spread out through the room he had stayed in.  She was relatively sure the boys had finished packing up, but she didn’t have anything that needed to be done right now, so she decided she might as well give the room a last once over.  They had maybe fifteen minutes before it would be time to head out. 

            Jake and his father were arguing again outside the suite, again in Japanese. 

            Suppressing a small sigh, she went first into the room where the majority of her bodyguards had slept and found that yes, they were completely moved out… she got down on her knees and checked under the beds anyhow.  They were all down arranging transport details – or in the night shift’s case, settling into their bus to get some sleep – keeping the overall building secured, with the exception of her friend.  Opening the adjoining door to the rest of the suite, where she had slept and worked and to some degree just spent time with her guards, she entered and went over the usual places where things could be forgotten.  When she left without having found anything, the two men were _still_ fighting, though their voices weren’t raised. 

            Just when she was thinking it might be time to step in and say that it was time to leave a little early, something about Jake _shifted_.  Relena’s breath caught in her throat as Jack also seemed to catch the change and he started to take a step back- 

            Jake moved with him, a furious sneer lighting his face as he brought up an elbow and slammed it into his father’s chest. 

            She stood in shock as they began to exchange blows, Jack almost frantically blocking and only managing it every other blow, not even attempting to launch his own offense as Jake turned into a blur of pure motion.  He was still snarling something, not quite yelling, though it still wasn’t in any language she knew, and it was too fast for her to even identify if it was the same- 

            Jack let out a cry of outright pain as he was slammed into one of the little tables in the hall of the posh hotel, and Relena’s inability to move vanished.  “Jake!”  She raced forward and grabbed furtively at her friend’s coat, catching his attention… 

            …As Jack launched back with a roar and his son neatly sidestepped into a misplaced block, gritting his teeth as he simply _took_ a blow to his exposed side, sliding her around to his back for protection, then gripping her hip by the bone and using it to guide her back and to the left before sliding back himself and delivering a kick that Jack evaded and used the recovery time from to come around that side.  Jake muttered a curse under his breath and grabbed her hip with his right hand this time to bring her around to what had been their front before, spinning as he did so to dodge, then releasing her and bringing his left to rest near her waist again as he brought his torso a little lower and clearly threw all his strength into a punch into the man’s solar plexus, sending him stumbling back…  And following, leaving her alone as Jack quickly righted himself and had to move entirely onto the defensive again. 

            _Oh my God._   The older man wasn’t even getting his blocks more than halfway there now, and Jake looked even _more_ furious, moving even faster somehow.  It was hard to tell what he was even _doing_ beyond his almost feral snarls and Jack’s cries- 

            “Miller!” 

            Neither man acknowledged her brother’s commanding call and she tensed as he dove in between them, managing to fend off both for a few seconds before Jake focused solely on him and snarled before _throwing_ him back across the hall and into a door, blocking another blow from his father before making him cry out again. 

            Milliardo was on his hands and knees, breathing hard and swaying. 

            He _wasn’t_ getting back up. 

            “Jake, stop!” she cried, darting forward again.  He had hurt Milliardo, but from what he had done before… 

            The blonde man growled in irritation as he guided her around to his back again and lashed out even more viciously, his nails drawing blood. 

            _He’s going to kill him,_ she realized in horror.  _He doesn’t **care** , he won’t back down and neither will Jack…_  Letting out a little scream of defiance, she tried to dart back around him, but he shifted his body so that again he was fully between her and his enemy. 

            _‘He wouldn’t hurt **you** ,’_ Mitchell’s words came back to her.  _‘But it **would** make it worse.’_  

            _Oh God…_   She had done exactly what David had said _not_ to do, and was proving everything he had said right. 

            There was a sickening crunch of bone snapping followed by a scream from Jack and Jake dashed forward again, slamming the point of his elbow into the center of his father’s chest, and there was another _crack_. 

            “Lena!” 

            Mitchell was down at the end of the hall and running towards them, but Jake had just tossed aside her _brother_ like a broken doll, and her brother could handle Tallgeese, he could fly _gundams_ , if Mitchell came close- 

            “Don’t kill him!” she snapped at her bodyguard, furious and scared and wondering if this might actually work or if she was going to see Dave hurt too, but trying to just keep the anger, the _command_ in her voice. 

            And he stopped. 

            He was shaking, but Jack was down on the floor, gasping for breath, and his son was no longer pressing the advantage, though whether it was because of her order or because there was no way Jack could retaliate with his chest trying to turn concave, she couldn’t tell.  He was breathing hard, his eyes squeezed shut, hands clenched in fists…  but he was standing still. 

            Mitchell slowed to a stop, and seemed to consider for a moment before asking, “Jake?” 

            The blonde brought one hand to his face, hiding his eyes.  “Take him to the hospital,” he ordered in a cold monotone.  He took a deep breath, released it, and turned away, facing her direction, starting to shake.  “Make sure I can’t see him again or I…  I can’t say I’ll…” 

            “Understood,” Mitchell returned sharply, gesturing the men who had come with him towards both Jack and Milliardo, starting to mutter orders quietly as Jake nodded, dropping his weight against the wall as the tremors really took hold. 

            After a moment, Relena followed him, coming into his space again but not touching him at all, not sure what to do… 

            “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. 

            Relena looked back to see the makeshift stretcher of blankets being made for Jack, someone helping Milliardo to his feet and him waving away help, leaning against a doorway for support.  There were medical personnel on site wherever she stayed, Jake had mandated it in case of emergencies, so everything would be fine, really. 

            “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, sounding even more upset, as if his voice was about to break, and he was shaking harder.  “I-” 

            “It’s fine,” she soothed, grasping his hand, then moving in to a halfway sort of hug when his shaking only grew worse.  Some of it was probably the adrenaline wearing off so quickly, but it was as if he thought she would reject him…  “It’s fine,” she repeated, holding him tight, and realizing that he really _did_ think that.  “I’m not scared of you,” she assured.  “How could I be?” 

            He certainly wasn’t anything like _Heero_ , holding a gun to her head, and she had rarely been afraid of him.  Jake had refused to stop attacking, true, but he had _protected_ her, at injury to himself…  He had protected her more than he should have been able to, still fully fighting like he had been; she had just _seen_ some of the skills that had qualified him as her bodyguard.  She hadn’t even known somebody could _do_ that – even the way he had pushed and pulled her around hadn’t hurt in the slightest. 

            His chuckle was somewhat incredulous, so she looked up to meet his eyes pointedly.  In some part of her mind, she was noting that it was ironic how he had caused then brought her through two meltdowns, and now she was helping him through _his_ second. 

            “We’re okay,” she said with finality after another moment, hoping he understood everything she meant.  _Don’t worry.  I’m okay with how you are.  We’re even.  We make a good team._

 _Don’t go away._  

            He closed his eyes and held her tight for a moment.  “Thanks, Lena.” 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**


	30. Crisis Averted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Close calls teach honest lessons, both about ourselves and those around us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minimal changes; grammar and mild expansion on Treize's thought processing. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**-**

_**Crisis Averted** _

_**-** _

_**-** _

_**-** _

_**-** _

**October 2 nd 197 – Monday – Amsterdam** **, Netherlands**

            “We should get rid of it while someone might still pay all right for it,” Anika announced with a sigh, biting her lip and looking sideways at the television.  “I mean, it was awesome to have one again, but really…” 

            “We got it for free,” Jamus shrugged off. 

            “With what I just heard, I want to cut all the electronics we don’t need,” Luc agreed, taking charge as he looked around, trying to meet everyone’s eyes.  “Treat it more like when we first moved in…  everything but the range and coldboxes on batteries, ‘cept the light in the areas where a big group is.”  He frowned, obviously thinking.  “I can’t remember…  We didn’t take down the boards on the windows on the top floor, did we?” 

            Duo swallowed, hugging Melissa closer to him.  He really wasn’t that worried; so long as they planned for it now, they’d be more than fine… but the mood was catching, all the same. 

            The final census had come back on what crops had survived to harvest, and it was below the estimate.  The news had said this winter wouldn’t be as cold as the last one, but it had been fucking _cold_ last year, so that didn’t say much…  That and it wasn’t like the fallout phenomena had ever happened before on such a large scale, so the estimates were rough. 

            The Regime was issuing rationing stamps… and he was painfully aware that, as a non-registered citizen, he wouldn’t be able to contribute his share.  That meant he’d have to make up for it through cash or barter, which he knew he could swing, _more than_ swing, but people were going to be more tight with their money and food now than they had been with the recent ups in the economy… 

            …and it felt like the beginning of quarantine all over again.  He buried his nose in ‘Liss’s hair, forcing himself to breathe deep…  There weren’t any patrols rounding up the sick on the streets to keep the infection from spreading, sectioning them off in their own quarters and leaving them there to die of the plague or the violence born of denying everyone the rights of a human _being_. They wouldn’t be left starving as the sector was either considered damned or forgotten. 

            And it wasn’t like anyone cared about the ‘undesirables’ who had been living in the shithole he’d grown up in _before_ it was made into a ghetto.  The fact that they had been healthy before was just one more reason to move all the infected in.  _Two birds with one stone, right?_  

            “Kay?” Melissa whispered, gripping the hand he had around her tightly and twisting slightly to give him a worried look. 

            _No_ , this wasn’t plague…  but if they could do that shit to people because of a plague, what else would they do it for? 

            “Kay?” his girl asked again, tugging on the hand a little for his attention… 

            He turned away from her eyes and hid his face in her hair.  “We’ll be okay,” he mumbled, wondering who it was he was trying to convince.  They had better odds.  With the way they could pool all the necessities together, it portioned out easier on everyone’s pockets… 

            She turned her face into his arm, closing her eyes.  “Of course we will,” she returned easily.  “We’ll just have to live closer to the edge than we’ve been for the past year…  Not as much fun, but we’ll just block off the upper two floors and keep the windows filmed and boarded again, bunk up a bit, keep more of the meals _actually_ communal than we have been.  We can keep this area warm enough off the kitchen mostly, and it’s easy to keep the underground area toasty…  We’ve got more mouths than before, but we’ve got better jobs too, so we’ll let the church float on food stamps – the Regime’s really good about the orphans – and if we have to, we can pool everything we’ve got on food and rent and the power bill, but there’s no way it’ll get _that_ bad.  We just have to save every bit we’ve got incase an emergency happens.” 

            She went on muttering the details to him, and he felt some of his muscles loosen a little as he heard Luc and Shov and the rest hashing out the details of exactly the same things she was bringing up.  They _had_ done this before… and they _had_ the self-control to pull it off too, they’d already proven that; they’d been here and stable long enough to have security. 

            It was so weird to think he’d really been here for a whole _year_.  He’d never lived _anywhere_ for that long.  Father Maxwell had kept sending him out to foster homes which would keep him a couple weeks or months before sending him back to the church, so even though he’d ‘been at the church’ a year, it wasn’t like this. 

            The impromptu meeting more or less ended, people wandering their own ways as a thought occurred to him, and he grinned down at her.  “Hey, if we’re ‘bunking up’ closer, does that mean you’ll move in with me?” 

            She snickered, leaning more against him.  In an overly haughty tone, she returned, “Well, exempting the fact that we already live in the same place-” 

            “Doesn’t count,” he negated happily. 

            “-or that we mostly sleep in the same place already-” 

            “Still doesn’t count.” 

            She rolled her eyes, but they were sparkling.  Still in the same tone, she pretended to consider.  “Well…  I suppose it would depend on how nice you asked me.” 

            “Mm…”  He pretended to think about it.  “I’ll have to plan this carefully, then.” 

            “Mmhmm,” she returned with a smile, cuddling into his chest a little.  “And help me move my stuff.” 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium**

 

-

_Miss Darlian-Peacecraft,_

_I was pleased to receive your latest missive, and wholly approve of the increase in multivitamin-mineral tablet production; the vitamin enriched food stores **are** beginning to run dangerously low, and in light of the coming winter on top of the problems presented in the areas you recently surveyed, it seems necessary.  My only suggestion would be to investigate the cost effectiveness of specializing what balances go to which region versus mass-producing an overall supplement.  It may not be a cost-effective option, but it’s worth looking into.  _

_As the majority of your last letter was simply an update about how all projects introduced on local levels are flourishing, I would like to move on to something you mentioned almost as a footnote._

            The crisis of the low crop return should definitely take priority; of course, the vitamin distribution will help, but I am convinced that that will run smoothly.  However, attempting to immediately rotate new crops into the used ground will only be feasible in a handful of circumstances, to my understanding, without compromising the more guaranteed to thrive spring planting.  By all means, I agree that the plots that can manage the extra production should be used with more careful correlation of amplifiers than previously.  I am curious to know if the Chinese government would be willing to send a consultant who is intimate with the machine’s interworkings.  Unfortunately, this still does not solve the immediate problem, as the winter crop will not be available for consumption until spring – though of course it will alleviate pressure during the new planting. 

_I am, however, interested in what might be done with hydroponics complexes on large scale.  The heat amplifying technology is new and therefore still experimental, if invaluable.  Alternately, the colonies have long proven the efficacy of hydroponics, especially in the past two year, where they have been pushing the facilities past any previous limits in order to aid Earth.  It is expensive, I am well aware – high cost for relatively low gain – but the net gain would also be **guaranteed** , as the amplifiers have been shown they are not.  _

_I eagerly await news from you on whether or not the idea is truly possible, and what measures it would require.  Until our next communication,_

_Yours truly,_

_The Rhea Lowe Tomorrow Today Fund_

-

 

            Relena could feel her heart fluttering in her chest as she finished reading, then read the email back over again.  It wasn’t what she had been expecting, but _more_ instead, with an option that hadn’t honestly occurred to her – she could _sing_.  “Jake!” 

            “Hmm?”  His head snapped up abruptly and his eyes darted over to her before he blinked and relaxed back into his recliner when the lack of danger sunk in.  She smiled a little apologetically.  He’d said he was going to doze a little this morning with the usual note that saying his name would be enough to wake him, but she had forgotten he was asleep in her excitement; she hadn’t meant to startle him.  He grinned a little ruefully and settled his firearm back into its holster before standing and coming over to her.  “What’s up?” 

            “Read this,” she insisted, moving aside so he could see her laptop screen better.  She hadn’t mentioned her halfway plans to do something about the food crisis to him largely because she was convinced someone else would have come up with the idea if it was physically possible; she hadn’t wanted to come across as uselessly idealistic.  They needed to focus on what _could_ be done, and her ‘footnote’ as RLTT had put it had been almost entirely an expression of frustration, with little hope.  The abrupt turnaround and applicable solution, though… 

            “Huh,” he mentioned after a minute, nibbling at his lower lip.  “I’ll get started hooking up contacts to get the numbers, then.” 

            She nodded.  “In a minute, at least.  We need a rough outline first.” 

            He frowned.  “You don’t have it outlined already?” 

            “This just came in,” she defended.  “Hydroponics _towers_ hadn’t occurred to me; I need to start research on that from scratch.” 

            He seemed to blink more sleep out of his eyes at that.  “Oh, right.”  He grabbed a report and flipped it over, pulling a pen out of his pocket.  “I grew up mostly in the colonies, and my uncle went over the greenhouse plant basics with me once or twice, so I can at least give you a rough idea…”  He started sketching a rough design. 

            Relena nodded a little to show she understood, then leaned back to look past him to the couch that Dorothy was still sound asleep on. 

            Jake had, according to him, almost shot the woman when she stumbled into the suite this morning.  Initially she had startled him, but then he said she hadn’t been herself, though he wasn’t sure if it was alcohol or drugs or simply exhaustion influencing her.  He had woken the princess up shortly after getting their friend to sleep and told her as much…  And this morning after she had gotten up, he had also noted that he had pulled her hair back out of her face when the woman stumbled into the bathroom to throw up an hour later, then helped her into the shower before slipping into her closet to find something for Dorothy to wear after she made her way back out. 

            To say she was worried about the other woman was quite an understatement. 

            She’d realized her friend was different right after they had come back to Brussels, of course, but she’d seemed almost manically happy.  Her rebelliousness had reached new levels, as was obvious by the bright _green_ streaks now dyed into her hair and the fact that she had simply _stopped_ ever getting out of bed before noon, but she had been all too pleased with her actions, highly amused by the fact that no one had directly _confronted_ her on the issues yet. 

            When Relena had tried to pester her about what she was out doing all night, Dorothy had refused to say outright and insisted that she come along sometime… which was, of course, entirely out of the question.  Her friend’s entrance last night only made that fact truer. 

            She wasn’t even vaguely sure, however, of what to _do_.  Dorothy was suddenly quite obviously sinking into a frightening kind of depression, as she had begun to realize shortly before she and Jake had left on tour.  She hadn’t thought that being away would cause the other girl to spiral downward so _quickly_ , though…  And she was at a complete loss. 

            The little voice in the back of her mind pointing out that she had essentially abandoned Dorothy when she left for her tour didn’t help the twisting in her stomach at _all_. 

            “We’ll work it out.” 

            She turned back to Jake, who was also watching Dorothy now, a worried frown on his face.  “How?” she asked quietly, not liking the desperation she heard in her voice but knowing it had its place; she didn’t wish she could take it back. 

            He was quiet for a moment, before sighing.  “Consider this,” he reasoned quietly.  “She came back to us so we could take care of her, instead of staying out or possibly being found out of bounds by someone who could hurt her.” 

            She nibbled at her lip.  That was true, and while it didn’t help the situation it meant Dorothy still trusted them… and didn’t see their absence as a betrayal.  It meant that it wasn’t as hopeless as it really felt. 

            “We’ll talk to her about it once she wakes up, huh?” 

            Relena let out a deep breath and nodded; after all, it really wasn’t as though there was anything else _to_ do about it yet.  She gestured back to the half drawn sketch.  “What were you saying?” 

-

***

-

**Lárisa, Greece**

            “Again.” 

            “Again?” 

            Odin raised his brows, asking if I was _really_ asking that… to which I rolled my eyes and launched into another tumble. 

            “I’m doing it _fine_ ,” I argued as I stood again, brushing dried grass off my shoulders.  The stuff was working through my sweater and had escaped down the back of my pants and it was nasty and _itched_ - 

            “You’re thinking about it,” he negated. 

            “Yeah?” I returned, annoyed, as he moved towards me… and shoved me.  We’d been playing that game practically since we met, however, and it had been a long while since that _worked_ because I could redistribute my balance and quickstep if I had to.  But this time he did it _harder_ than I remembered him ever trying – throwing his weight into it, apparently.  I shoved back just has hard, bracing because I knew he wouldn’t go over easy if at all because _he_ would be bracing- 

            …only to have him fall back with no resistance.  Fluidly twisting his body into what looked like the reverse of the tumble he’d been making me drill in the for past _hour_ – only I wasn’t sure his hands actually touched the ground – he came back to his feet in the same motion without seemingly an ounce of effort. 

            _…Okay, that was awesome._  

            “You don’t think about balance now,” he reiterated as he came back over to me.  I nodded a little, and suddenly he was behind me, practically lifting me _up_ in the air as he shoved me, taking away any leverage I had.  I tucked and rolled, but my shoulder hurt now; I’d shifted my weight wrong.  I’d still made it back to my feet, though. 

            “Not too bad,” he muttered, though I _know_ he didn’t miss my grimace.  “You’re too small to fight strength with strength.” 

            …And the message clicked.  He had just picked me up and _thrown_ me, which basically ruled out any of the options he’d shown me before, but if I could always _land_ something, it wouldn’t matter.  Actually, seeing how fast he’d recovered and how surprised I’d been, falling and rolling back might be a _better_ technique than refusing to give ground. 

            _Right, that’s what he just **said** , moron._ 

            He was staring at me, definitely considering how much I’d put together, and I nodded to confirm I had.  Frowning slightly, he added, “It needs to be _instinct_.” 

            _Hence the repetition,_ I realized grimly.  Annoying, but he had a point.  “Got it,” I mumbled, letting out another little sigh… and launched into another roll.  As soon as I regained my feet, I sprung up and went into the same motion over again, and felt more than saw Odin’s nod of approval.  Speed would make it so I really _couldn’t_ overthink it, and the motion would move into muscle memory faster. 

            Odin could be obnoxiously obtuse, but the guy was totally a genius. 

-

***

-

**China**

            “You’re taking it too personally,” Shui muttered. 

            Wufei stifled a growl, gripping his pencil hard enough that it was starting to bend… he lessened the pressure before it snapped.  His roommate had been perfectly content to keep his mouth _shut_ for the past half hour, and he had actually been starting to lose some of his tension.  Forcing his furious sneer into a scowl, he didn’t bother looking up, and went back over his notes. 

            It was another ten minutes before Shui interrupted again. 

            “You know the statistical estimates were from before we started working.” 

            Wufei shoved away from his desk, hard, and glared over at the other engineer.  “We’re still below our forecast, which was never enough to start with,” he snapped.  _It’s not good enough!_  

            “It was an optimistic forecast, without being able to recalibrate for local weather at least once a week,” Shui argued.  His tone was cool, logical, but his eyes were burning with as much passion and rage as Wufei suspected his own were.  “Not to mention we don’t know about any _other_ on-site factors.” 

            Wufei found himself sneering again.  “Blaming the unknown is a _weak_ excuse, Shui.” 

            The other man leaned forward, elbows on his knees.  “The Regime could not staff full guards, nor could they effectively train enough loyal technicians for each machine.  There have been numerous cases of sabotage.  These are facts.” 

            “That doesn’t _change_ anything!” Wufei snapped back. 

            Shui’s eyes narrowed more.  “It changes a great deal of things.” 

            “The end result doesn’t shift,” he snarled. 

            Shui was quiet for a moment… before he stood.  “If you’re so fucking arrogant that you need to shoulder the whole world’s blame, I’ll leave you to it.”  His posture stiff, he went to the door, opened it.  Before he had closed it again behind himself, he added, “If you decide to grow up, I’ll be down at Que’s.” 

            He didn’t quite slam the door, but it was a close thing. 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium**

            I groaned as a woke up, covering my face.  It was _far_ too bright… 

            “Morning, Sunshine,” a male voice greeted, tone dry.  “You going to throw up again?” 

            _Throw up again?_ I wondered, confused, then I grimaced; ugh, the taste was still in my mouth. 

            “Come on, have some juice.”  One hand was peeled away from my face and a glass was placed in it.  “Are you hung over?” 

            I mumbled something then as I sat up…  Once I stopped to analyze the sound, however, I think it was some mix between the words ‘head’ and ‘bright,’ so it couldn’t have been terribly illuminating. 

            Apparently, however, the way I was clutching my head was, because the hand busy doing that was also peeled away to have two small tablets dropped into it.  “Take that.”  Obediently, I brought the pills to my mouth and followed it with the juice.  Trust was what had gotten me into trouble last night, but it as okay _here_. 

            “Wild night out, huh?”  I mumbled out a few choice phrases I had heard from the locals, remembering…  _I **think** that was last night, anyway…_   I opened my eyes to glare at Jake when he started to chuckle.  He only smirked at me for my trouble…  and proceeded to rattle back a _far_ more colorful variation of what I had just suggested. 

            Was it bad that my mind latched onto the fact that he had a flawless local accent in the Belgium French with Dutch anecdotes, instead of the fact that he _knew_ those phrases at all? 

            He just looked at me curiously after he’d finished, head canted slightly to the side, and I couldn’t help but stare back at him.  I wasn’t sure what he wanted, really.  Jake rarely worried me, but he was starting to, right now… and considering the fact that I had no memory of coming back here at all… 

            “The princess is off organizing her latest endeavor,” he noted after a minute of awkward silence, during which I belatedly realized we’d just been blatantly staring at each other.  “I’d like an explanation for last night.” 

            _Oh hell._  

            He held up a small device on a keychain pointedly.  “You didn’t breathe a high enough blood alcohol content to have been acting like you were.” 

            I frowned.  “Why do you have a breathalyzer?” 

            He just raised his brows sardonically.  “What were you on?” 

            “I don’t know,” I snapped, shoving the glass of juice back at him and bringing my hands back to my head. 

            “You don’t know?” 

            “I didn’t take anything,” I couldn’t help but sneer, squeezing my eyes shut.  Since my first discovery of a club several weeks ago, I’d regularly begun to frequent a number of them on a sometimes nightly basis, but while I appreciated the movement and acquaintances, I had decided early on that though the early stages of alcohol were pleasant enough, the latter were for fools; I had no interest in losing my mind, even temporarily. 

            The problem, however, was that just that had somehow happened last night. 

            Jake sighed a little, taking a sip from the glass himself before focusing back on me.  “What’s the last thing you remember?” 

            “I see no reason to indulge your questions,” I retorted sharply, flopping back down onto the… couch?  The action was _not_ a good idea, it made my head spin in such a way that I wanted to throw up.  _Oh God._   I pushed myself back up on my hands, trying to determine if I could get up fast enough to make it to the bathroom. 

            The cup was pressed back to my lips, very slightly tipped to the liquid just reached the brim.  “Tiny sip,” Jake suggested gently.  “Only enough to wet your tongue and focus on the flavor, don’t swallow right away…” 

            For some reason I really couldn’t comprehend, following just those directions made the nausea pass.  He took the glass away and helped ease me back into a sitting position before setting a cold, damp cloth across my forehead – which felt _so_ nice.  “You really know how to do this,” I realized, blinking down at the bowl that the cloth must have come out of, the glass of juice and bottle of aspirin, the small tray with croissants and pastries, a small plate of pancakes, tea, ice water…  All the bland and sweet foods I liked and had a chance of stomaching right now. 

            I closed my eyes again, but not because the room was too bright – I was used to it now.  No, he so obviously _cared_ , he’d even sent Relena out so I wouldn’t embarrass myself in front of my idol, he was putting so much effort into it… 

            I didn’t want him to see how close I was to crying.  I hadn’t ever had someone go to so much trouble for me.  My family had catered to me before they had died, but they had only had to pass along orders to others that what I wanted be done, Jake had managed this for me _himself_ - 

            “Hey,” he muttered soothingly, wiping at one wet cheek… which made me want to cry harder, though I tried not to.  “Hey, don’t do that…  It’s alright…” 

            _No, it’s not!_   I wanted to scream, the true horror of it coming to me.  I had _no idea_ how I’d gotten here, though I recognized that it was Relena’s suite of rooms, now.  I had absolutely _no memory_ of last night beyond vague impressions of dancing, having a few drinks, nothing terribly heinous…  But I couldn’t _remember_.  “What happened last night?” I demanded suddenly, looking down at him, crouched in front of me. 

            His eyes narrowed.  “You don’t remember.”  His mouth hardened into a line.  “You stumbled in at three ten this morning and passed out almost immediately.  Anything before that…  You don’t remember coming home, not at all?”  I shook my head, feeling my breathing come in haggard gasps.  My heart was speeding up as the full implications struck home. 

            _I was drugged.  Someone **drugged** me.  How could that have happened, I thought…?  Oh **God** , what **happened**?_  

            He was pulling me into a hug, now, however awkward it must be for him, the way he was half leaning and holding himself away so that the gesture wasn’t too intimate.  “Hey, you’re okay, it’s okay now…” 

            God, if only it could be that simple… 

-

***

-

**October 4 th 197 – Wednesday – Treize’s hidden compound**

            Treize strode confidently down the hall to the observatory, running his tongue over the inside of his teeth.  He selected his men carefully, and only allowed those selected by men he trusted absolutely choose civilians to back their cause.  He had laid down his initial rules carefully so that there was very little chance his secret could get out.  However, one of the factors that the secret of his life and location depended heavily on was that very few men and women left or entered this compound up in the mountains. 

            He did not think his security was compromised, but arrogance was a foolish attribute unless it were only a mask, and he liked to think of himself as masked and Zechs the fool, however hard they had played the images in the opposite direction in the past.  This… this was a right he had granted on principle, not practicality, and had not expected anyone to attempt to follow through to the point that he had to meet like this. 

            _It would only take one wrong move to ruin all this,_ he thought grimly as the door came within his line of sight.  He didn’t pause in any way that might be visible as he neared his destination… and he wasn’t pausing mentally either because honestly, one was the same as the other, and his mind had been decided long before.  He honestly couldn’t remember the last time one thought hadn’t flowed smoothly into the next.  It was that easy confidence he’d always had that had gotten him into the Specials, that had won him Leia, garnered the loyalty of the men and women he lead against the Alliance, and he _knew_ it.  He had always intuitively _known_ that fluid dance, and he had learned how to mold the reactions of those who responded to him early. 

            _If this is nothing, he will **not** leave happy,_ he decided grimly, reaching for the handle. 

            The civilian turned immediately when the door opened.  “Your Excellency,” he muttered respectfully, looking nervous. 

            Treize waved one hand in a dismissal of the formality.  “Please, make yourself comfortable.”  A pitcher of ice water and two glasses had been set out on the coffee table between the two armchairs he had had brought in here for this meeting, and he went to take a seat and pour for both of them.  His guest, of course, felt uncomfortable still standing and also took a seat, accepting his glass with thanks.  However, he didn’t seem to know how to begin what had brought him here so urgently, refusing to send any information by the normal routes and insisting on coming in person. 

            So Treize chose a more neutral subject to start off on.  Leaning back and taking a sip of water, he asked, “How was your vacation?”  He had already delivered the details he had asked after in Amsterdam a few weeks ago, and while the deeper questions he had remained unanswered, a few clues had been provided for the greater puzzle. 

            “It was wonderful,” the Dutch man returned, though he seemed more distracted than pleased, studying the glass in his hands intently.  “Thank-you for helping along the arrangement.” 

            “Of course, don’t think of it,” Treize returned smoothly, sipping again.  William had grown up then raised children in Amsterdam, and was intimately familiar with both it and its residents, including the members of the most peaceable large group of young people in the city; he had been perfect for unobtrusively checking the legitimacy of a few details.  “Your children are doing well?” 

            He was looking to the side now, though smiling.  “Yeah.  My boy’s getting top marks in all his classes, and my girl’s starting up a business by herself, holding down a job with the militia, and is as happy as can be with a kid that seems pretty serious about her.” 

            “Good,” Treize returned politely. 

            William grimaced slightly, though he was still smiling, and sat forward so he could pull something out of a back pocket… his wallet.  He set his water down on the table and opened it up, reaching in to pull out a folded up photograph.  His hands were shaking slightly, and he chewed on his lip a little as he reached across the table to hand it over.  “There’s a picture of them, actually,” he muttered quietly. 

            His curiosity peaked by the man’s behavior, Treize leaned forward as well, setting down his own glass and taking the glossy paper.  Not expecting much, he unfolded it. 

            The young woman shown had the same eyes and smile as her father.  She wore a militia uniform and was leaning back against a young man with a black ponytail falling over one shoulder that nearly reached the bottom of her sternum.  He was holding her and they were laughing, the expressions true… 

            …and while the hair color was wrong and his face had certainly thinned and matured, he recognized the young man as Duo Maxwell. 

            “Ah.”  This whole charade made sense, now.  He smiled slightly; this _certainly_ qualified for the level of secrecy William Mehile had demanded this meeting take place in. 

            “That’s the only picture I’ve got,” his guest mumbled, obviously trying _very_ hard to meet his eyes.  “I want it back.” 

            “Of course.”  He offered it, and William took it and considered it for a moment himself before sighing and putting it away.  After the man was settling into a proper sitting position again, he asked, “How long has he been there?” 

            “A full year now, apparently.”  The Dutch man sighed.  “Showed up out of the blue one day and slid right in with them.  Says he doesn’t want anything to do with the war anymore.”  He rubbed at his leg in another nervous gesture.  “It was him and my little girl that took down the more violent group all by themselves, back in July.” 

            “Mm.”  That _had_ always been Maxwell’s sort of flair, hadn’t it? 

            “He says he led them to take Schbeiker back, back in April, too.” 

            _…That **does** make the pieces click together for Amsterdam,_ Treize decided jadedly, resisting the urge to rub at his eyes with one hand, nodding in understanding and looking out the glass at the scenery instead.  Men talented enough to effectively fly a machine so powerful as a gundam required a sort of spirit that had always fascinated and driven him, but as he himself was testament to, they also had amazing capacity for throwing a wrench into the machinations of others. 

            _Thomas Carmen._   And yet, what else could Maxwell have done, if the man had been able to ID him?  Able to ID any of them as Devil’s Get?  Treize would have made the same decision, had he been in the boy’s shoes.  That lack of justice, the realization that Carmen would _never_ see justice hurt, hurt the same way it always did… but that was part of the game they were trapped playing. 

            _The most disheartening fact about the lives of double agents is just how many of them die for truly stupid reasons._   Death was always pointless, truthfully, but still… Carmen had died because no one had the information they _needed_ that night, and there was nothing to be done for it. 

            _At least Duo Maxwell was always known for quick, clean deaths._   Carmen had likely died before he had even recognized the danger.  _Shinigami strikes yet again._  

            “What else can you tell me?” he asked after a moment, determined to get what he could out of the man while he was here.  Maxwell wanted to be left alone, obviously, or he would not have made William go to such lengths for privacy… but his current opinion did not entirely rule him out as a potential ally. 

            Knowledge was an endless variant of power, after all. 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium**

            “Everything looks fine,” Jake murmured quietly.  “She had some definite traces of what the practitioner said was a common date rape drug in her system, but, no one touched her.”  He sighed, staring down at his hands.  “The best theory we can come up with is that she realized something was wrong and made her way home before someone could take advantage.” 

            Relena nodded a little, trying to fight down the bile rising in her throat.  “So she was lucky.”  She had come back to the suite to check on them Monday afternoon only to find a hurried note from her bodyguard saying taking Dorothy to a city hospital for anonymity’s sake and that they’d be back soon.  Then he’d sent Cassidy to fill his usual place in the Murphy bed near the entrance to her private rooms in her suite that night, claiming not to be fit for duty and sleeping in his old room instead.  The next day he and Dorothy had returned and acted as though everything were completely normal – Jake making a quick comment about how any details could wait until the results followed as well… and they had only gotten the results a bare ten minutes ago.  Dorothy was still asleep. 

            His sudden grin was rather feral.  “I’m not sure how much of it was ‘luck,’ really.  She _was_ armed, and a few rounds are missing that she can’t account for, so her actions may have been a little more… _proactive_ than is usual in that situation.” 

            “Well, that’s something, at least…” 

            “She must have scared the hell out of him, minimum,” Jake noted.  “I’m hoping he’s dead, personally.” 

            “Can’t they track that?” Relena snapped quietly. 

            “Only if someone wants to try,” he returned coolly.  “It’s more likely someone saw an opportunity and already harvested the body for organs.” 

            “Organs?” she asked, feeling her stomach twist again, harder. 

            He stood, going over to the tray the maids had brought up and pouring himself a drink from the carafe.  “You’d be amazed how much a kidney goes for on the black market.”  His tone was one of mild interest.  Reaching for a second mug, he asked, “Coffee?” 

            “No, thank-you,” she muttered, clenching her hands to try to stop them from shaking; she did _not_ need any caffeine.  She was relieved, and agreed that it would only be what the man deserved, but still…  “Milk sounds good, though.” 

            It was left unsaid that the subject was closed. 

**-**

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**-**

**-**


	31. Kindle, Kindle...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Go on, baby, get the lighter, We're gonna start the fire...'
> 
> If you want the flames to last all night, preparation is key; and priorities matter just as much as intention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild expansion of Relena's thought processing; otherwise, just grammar and minor phrasing edits.

**-**

_**Kindle, Kindle…** _ **_  
_ **

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**-**

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**-**

**October 5 th 197 – Thursday – L3**

            “Thank-you for meeting with me,” Relena greeted earnestly, holding out one hand to shake. 

            Dane Robbins smiled as he took it in a similarly brisk but friendly fashion.  “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Darlian.” 

            Her smile broadened.  “I like you already.” 

            He laughed, and moved to respectfully shake hands with Jake, who was her only bodyguard for this particular expedition.  Not that he particularly looked it, in his casual dress slacks and open button-up, notebook tucked under his arm.  “Dane Robbins,” their host greeted. 

            “Jake Miller,” he returned easily, leaving the reasoning of his presence to the more obvious end of speculation.  “Thank-you for meeting with us on such short notice.” 

            “When I heard the proposal, there was no question,” Dane dismissed, turning and heading back out of the room by a different entrance than Relena and Jake had come by.  He gestured for them to follow.  “I’m glad you could come so quickly – timing is going to be everything if we’re to prevent the food crisis you’ve predicted.  The sooner we can get the construction underway-” 

            “The first three plots were bought yesterday,” Relena interrupted, hastening her pace to be a step behind their host.  “Even as we speak, materials are being negotiated.” 

            Dane laughed, looking even more excited.  “Of course, my point exactly!  I have my people competing over schematics as we speak; we’re all eager to put the idea of hydroponics complexes into reality.  We’re making history, after all!”  He shook his head a little.  “I love it when we can throw the nonsense aside and get some honest work done.  This project will be a testament to what humanity is capable of – that hasn’t been approached since the creation of the colonies themselves!” 

            Relena only smiled, glad of the man’s enthusiasm, even though she thought _that_ speculation was a little exaggerated.  It _was_ groundbreaking to be sure, and she _was_ still flustered and fascinated by the speed that RLTT allowed her to move at… but it was all for good reason, like Dane said.  The fund proprietor was answering her emails almost as soon as they were sent now, no time wasted at _all_.  As soon as the speculative landmass requirements for a facility were proposed, she had heard back of larger pieces of property bought – the deeds due to be delivered to her by courier the following morning. 

            And the initial sums devoted just as a project seed… they were almost carelessly huge.  Logical, considering the undertaking, but she had expected a tighter leash, that she would have to argue to validate her reasoning, that she would need Jake to crunch the numbers over and over to find the best solution that RLTT would be willing to accept, not just… have it all forked over with demands for updates and to be told if more was needed.  _Clearly, I need to look into just how much money they dropped on previous projects._   Because this seemed excessive even for what she had already known about RLTT, and it had started to make her nervous… until she realized that several of the previous candidacies overlapped. 

            It… was a little hard to _comprehend_ just how much money was managed by the Rhea Lowe Tomorrow Today Fund.  Sometime during the long night without news of Dorothy’s predicament when she had hardly been able to sleep for worry – especially with Jake away and not able to soothe her nerves – she’d finally just _said_ what had worried her. 

 

-

            ‘ _I need to know my hard limits on the budget here before I start negotiating contractors.  I want to pull the maximum efficiency out of what you can give me for this.’_  

-

 

            She had sent it before she could get too self-conscious, even as she emailed concept arguments with the contact Jake suggested from a prior job he’d done in L2, laying down the foundations for a dialogue.  It wasn’t an unreasonable request, after all… it was just that RLTT had always been the one to broach the topic first.  All the same, she had been nervous right up until she read the response that arrived less than ten minutes later:

 

-

_‘Demand their best, then negotiate bulk pricing.  Projections should extend to, at minimum, double the difference we’re looking at for the grain shortage.  Even if money were an issue, I wouldn’t care in the face of making this difference – and I’m relatively certain I could ransom **China** with what I have available to me.  Money means nothing if it isn’t spent.  _

_‘Efficiency is ideal, but speed is more so.  Don’t concern yourself with the bill.’_

-

 

            Needless to say, the past three days had been a whirlwind of sheer _progress_.  Looking back, she wanted to growl in frustration at her previous tentative approach – her reticence had likely cost more than she could possibly imagine in terms of life and misery. 

            And that?  That was _not_ acceptable.  Not anymore. 

            _I will not be restrained by my own timidity any longer.  We can’t afford useless hesitation, not now._   So long as she coordinated for RLTT she could no longer play social games of bashfulness for the sake of anyone’s pride.  She had learned point blank yesterday morning that if she proposed something RLTT thought unwise or in need of tweaking, the proprietor would simply _say_ so… usually within twenty minutes. 

            And it would be delivered without any scorn, full of alternate suggestions or thoughts and full reasoning. 

            She felt incomparably silly that it had taken a few typos the proprietor made in obvious haste to respond to make her realize how little the fund cared for appearances.  Or, if they did care, that Relena had long ago passed those beginning stages of formality.  She had a political ally and friend, somehow – not someone that she needed to be sure she didn’t displease. 

            When she’d mentioned as much to Jake, it hadn’t helped that he had only noted that he’d said as much months ago.  Of course, he’d been grinning, and she’d smacked him for it, which made him laugh in that naughty little boy way of his, and it hadn’t actually been insulting at all…  It just was annoying that he didn’t appreciate the gravity of what this all _meant_. 

            _I could take on the **world** right now._  

            Well, not really, but that was the rough sentiment.  Of course, when she’d reiterated as much to Dorothy, the other woman had blinked at her and said ‘I thought that was the _point_ ’ which basically killed the mood as effectively as Jake’s words had… but _her_ evil little laugh when fending off Relena’s blows with a folder had been the same sort of easy balm as Jake’s same glib attitude. 

            …And Mitchell’s…  Cassidy’s…  ‘Rome’s… 

            If she didn’t know better, she might really start wondering why she’d surrounded herself with a bunch of jokers. 

-

***

-

**October 6 th 197 – Friday – Athens, Greece**

            “This is awesome,” Marie gushed, drinking in the article.  “They’re leveling out the ground already, and the experts are going back over the final designs for errors…  They want to start construction the day after _tomorrow_.” 

            “Relena never liked to do anything partway,” Odin admitted, frowning as he tapped at the laptop keyboard. 

            “No kidding,” she muttered, flipping to the next page of the magazine.  “You knew her, didn’t you?” 

            Her guardian glanced around before nodding an affirmative, and Marie rolled her eyes.  They were on top of the Acropolis, but it was during the city’s siesta, so no one was really around.  The view was amazing…  and there were cats all over the place.  That was the cool thing about Greece, she’d decided; there were just strays everywhere that people took care of but didn’t take home.  She’d been playing with a kitten for almost an hour before it tired out and went to sleep on the ground nearby. 

            “What are you so intent on, anyhow?” she asked when she realized he wasn’t going to give her any detail on the princess. 

            “It’s difficult to move things along this fast, usually,” he informed her distractedly, not looking up.  “I’m trying to see why.” 

            She blinked.  “It’s because she’s an RLTT candidate.” 

            He focused on her at that.  “You’re familiar with it?” 

            “Yeah, my mom was a candidate too, when I was little.  I mean, I don’t remember, but it was cleaning up one of the L3 colonies after a major coup attempt got put down.”  She frowned, thinking.  “I _think_ she said she was the first candidate it ever had, but I’m not sure about that.” 

            “Hm.”  He turned back to the computer, and she went to look over his shoulder to see the search results.  The R.L. Tomorrow Today Fund had done few enough projects that she didn’t think it would be too hard for him to find, not even counting that he was a hacker mastermind. 

            So it didn’t really make sense when he opened up the first site that had information on it and just _stopped_.  “What’s wrong?” 

            He was silent for another moment before he answered.  “That was L3-X18999.”  When she only looked at him curiously, he clarified, “That was where Odin died.” 

            _Oh._   It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Odin didn’t usually like to talk about his dad outside of random little tidbits.  All Marie had been able to really confirm was that he’d been dead a long time, and that her pseudo brother didn’t really know a lot of details about him himself.  It also wasn’t hard to realize that he had cared deeply about the man who’d raised him… and that this was really important to him. 

            “When did it happen?” she asked, trying to figure out what connections he had already put together. 

            “It was less than two months before Leia Barton was selected as RLTT’s first candidate to clean up the aftermath of the attempted coup; and she was selected barely a week after it was created.” 

            “That’s… interesting,” she admitted. 

            “R.L. Tomorrow Today…  Do you know what the R.L. stands for?” 

            “Um…  Someone’s name, I think?  But I’m not sure.” 

            “Did your mother ever say why she was selected?” 

            Marlé shook her head.  “Not that I can remember, no.  I mean, I’d guess it was because she’d been volunteering in a hospital there when the coup happened, and she was from an influential family?  But that’s just guessing.  I was just barely two at the time, so I don’t remember – I just know what she told me later on.”  She chewed a little on her lip, thinking before admitting, “That was before my grandfather disowned us, though, if her last name was still Barton…”  She forgot, sometimes, that it hadn’t been official before that. 

            “She was volunteering in the hospital during the coup?” 

            “Yeah…  She was getting some experience in before college, or something.  She was an ACET student before I came along, but she took enough time off after that she was closer to the normal Earth track for school.”  He had a very serious look on his face.  “What?” 

            “Just a minute.”  His fingers were flying again, and he was flipping through searches and different windows… before settling on a news article from when Relena Darlian-Peacecraft had been selected by the fund.  He stayed there long enough for her to follow that it was relevant before he was searching after something else… 

            _I really need to learn how to do that,_ she decided tiredly, giving up entirely and going back to poke at the kitten she’d been playing with before, seeing if it wanted any of the meat out of her pita thing she had left over from lunch earlier. 

            It was almost fifteen minutes before Odin rolled back on his heels, staring up at the clouds with a frown. 

            “The first projects follow the movements of Operation Meteor’s beginnings almost exactly, with a delay ranging from one to three weeks, for over a year,” he began. 

            “Alright,” Marlé noted, picking the little creature up and sitting on a piece of wall next to him. 

            “Leia’s selection so quickly after it was founded suggests that it might have been created originally _for_ her use, at least in part,” he continued.  “Which means she probably knew the proprietor.” 

            “I guess that would make sense…” 

            “After that, the projects directly follow Operation Meteor movements for a while, which suggests a definite interest.  Either they were shaken off eventually, or RLTT decided they knew enough and backed down – either at threat of retaliation or loss of interest.”  His frown hardened into a glare as he concentrated.  “Then the frequency of projects decreased dramatically and are seemingly random, with no particular significance.  Lucrezia Noin is selected two years after the creation of the fund in 190 for a project to increase higher education possibilities for adolescents on a large enough scale to affect both the Earth and colony populations.” 

            “That’s just as random as any of the others though, isn’t it?” Marie asked. 

            “It might be,” Odin allowed.  “But Treize Khushrenada was hospitalized early in the attempted coup on L3-X18999 in the same hospital your mother was volunteering at, because he blocked what ought to have been a killing blow to one of his students: Lucrezia Noin.  And OZ knew about Operation M for at least a year before its failed launch, though when I’ve looked through their databanks in the past, the origins of the initial suspicions were too vague to have logically drawn any conclusions from.” 

            “Which means they might not have gotten the information from a legitimate source,” Marie finished for him, her head spinning. 

            “Yes.  Then in 191 RLTT endorsed the creation of _Peacemillion_ through Howard Oclaire, which was conveniently forgotten about very quickly.  Considering how controversial and liberal the making of that ship was, that had to have required heavy bribes to the right people.  I’m not as sure about that one, but I know that Treize was in position at that time to have that power. 

            “And when you look at the timing of the early projects to what I know I was doing within Operation M at the time in combination with the candidate selections, it ties tenuously back to Treize, and by proxy, to OZ.  Not Treize specifically, the nature of the project selection is far too whimsical, but I’m almost positive that it still relates back to him.” 

            “But not anymore, right?” Marie interrupted.  “I mean, Wufei Chang killed him, so whatever is going on with it now can’t have anything to do with him anymore.” 

            He gave her a confused look.  “He’s not dead.” 

            “…He’s not?” 

            “No, it was originally his people chasing Chang Xutao that I was following from the start.” 

            …Only _Odin_ could casually note that _Treize Khushrenada_ was alive and well and make it sound like it was obvious, even though he’d never bothered to mention it.  Marlé groaned, covering her face with her hands, and the kitten hopped away.  “Okay…” she said after a moment.  “So Treize still has a full faction running in complete secrecy.”  Odin nodded.  “Geeze, I wonder what Mr. Beiber would make of that.”  Her old social science teacher had practically worshiped the leader of OZ.  “Okay, so… that means Treize probably supports what Relena’s doing?” 

            “Everyone supports what Relena’s doing,” Odin noted dryly.  “That only makes sense, right now.” 

            She rolled her eyes.  “I mean, like…  Like maybe he’s allying with her?  Or at least, he wants to?” 

            “Probably; he did ally with her to attempt to bring down White Fang.  He likely sees the Peacecraft Regime as a natural extension of the same organization.” 

            “Well it is, isn’t it?”  She bit her lip.  “But Relena just gave in to Milliardo for so long and stepped off the political field for a while, and she’s been working entirely under him so far…  So it’s be hard to say what side she’s on right now.” 

            Odin’s smiles were always worth the headaches of working through his logic: he never smiled unless he really honestly meant it.  “Right.  But knowing Relena, she probably doesn’t see herself as working under _anyone_ , which makes her even harder to approach.  It’s impossible to know for sure how she’s willing to forge alliances.  Anyone can see that she’s changed drastically over the past few years; she’s far more… practical, now.  It’s impossible to tell where her old idealism spills into that.” 

            “So she’s dangerous to Treize so long as he’s underground and can be exposed to her brother.” 

            “Right.” 

            She nodded a little, looking over her shoulder at the city laid out below them… and sighed.  “That’s… really complicated.” 

            Odin nodded.  “Though for all we know, Treize has already established contact and they’re working together by now.  I’m relatively sure he was trying to get a connection to Po’s rebels in catching Xutao.” 

            “He’s trying to form up a network and unite everyone against the Regime,” she realized, looking at Odin with wide eyes.  He nodded.  She considered all that for another long moment before shaking her head.  “Wow.”  Treize sounded just about as amazing as ever. 

            Odin shrugged slightly, closing the laptop and putting it back in our backpack.  “Come on…  Our train leaves in a little over two hours; we should go check in.” 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium**

            “Hello, Mr. Dagdagan!”

            “What _now_?” 

            Dorothy smiled sweetly at the man, which only seemed to make him more wary… which was, of course, even more amusing.  _Really, especially considering what it **is** , he ought to be cheering, not snapping._  She shrugged a little and gestured at the paper she’d just dropped on his desk, setting on the edge of the monolith of furniture and looking over her shoulder to watch his reaction while he read. 

            Milliardo’s Chief of Staff had never really liked the parameters set down around her situation of employment, and she had never made it any secret that she didn’t give a damn.  He had actively sought to get rid of her at first before eventually realizing it was a fruitless endeavor and tried instead to simply cut his losses. 

            _Considering how relieved he was when I gave up all pretenses of even trying to do what was assigned to me last month, this ought to be Christmas come early._

            He stared at the paper for an inordinately long time; after all, it was only a few lines of script.  She supposed it must be shock.  Debating how long she should wait for him to recover, she studied her nails and frowned.   _It’s a good thing the lawyer’s appointment is scheduled for tomorrow; I should still have time to get a manicure this afternoon…_  

            “…This is a resignation,” Miles Dagdagan muttered finally. 

            “Mmhmm,” she agreed easily, focusing back on him, looking over her shoulder. 

            “Honestly.” 

            She nodded. 

            “…This isn’t a joke?” 

            “Mmm mm,” she negated.  When he continued to stare at her, she decided she’d cut him a break and clarify.  “I turned eighteen yesterday.” 

            “…Okay?” 

            She gave him a bemused look.  _He can’t really be that slow._   “I’m officially inheriting tomorrow.” 

            He stared at her for another moment before looking back at the paper and her carefully sculpted signature… and when he met her eyes again he was grinning.  “You’re resigning from both his staff and the military.” 

            She smiled brilliantly at him.  “Mmhmm.” 

            He nodded a little, looking off to one side before meeting her eyes again.  “Are you keeping your room?” 

            “I was going to see about getting one of the suites near the princess,” she negated happily. 

            He considered that for a moment before smiling smugly and leaning forward.  “I tell you what: work that out before three, and I’ll even find people to move your affects for you before the night’s out.” 

            She smiled dazzlingly again.  _So_ nice of him to remember how she disliked physical labor.  Sliding off his desk, she held up one finger for him.  “I’ll be back momentarily.” 

            He actually laughed, then.  “A pleasure to do business with you for once, Miss Catalonia.” 

-

***

-

**October 7 th 197 – Saturday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “We’ve got a few big chest freezers,” Daan informed the checkout girl cheerfully when she gave us a dubious look. 

            “Stockpiling seemed like a good idea,” Marien added. 

            “We look like we’re _crazy_ ,” Tiede complained, his shoulders slumped. 

            I rolled my eyes, yanking out my wallet.  “It’s the smart thing to do and you know it, so quit complaining.”  Daan and Adelheid were digging cash up too, and Dev was starting to argue good-naturedly with Tiede, trying to get him to be less moody. 

            It wasn’t until I started trying to spend quality time with normal teenagers, here in this city, that I began to appreciate how little I had in common with them. 

            Handing my cash to Adelheid, I turned back to the girl at the checkout… Lillian, by her nametag.  “Sorry for any hassle.”  Moving to the bag turnstile, I got to work double bagging everything as she started ringing it up.  After the initial shock, she seemed more amused than anything, for which I was grateful. 

            After all, we’d just attempted to empty the frozen section of the whole store.  And Isaac, Adriaan, Markos, and Shov were still somewhere in the store getting other staples.  Father Espen had lent us the van again, so we’d take the frozen stuff back to the Den fast as we could and unload quick, then Daan would bring the van back to pick up the others.  By the time we got it all put away, chances were the next load would be there. 

            Things were cheaper in bulk.  And prices were sure to go up as winter truly set in. 

            I was helping load everything up into the van when I felt it: nothing quite so classic as the hairs raising on the back of my neck, but something, nonetheless.  I’d never figured out if it was having sharp senses or a sixth one altogether, but something… potentially tricky was afoot. 

            I wanted to ignore it, because really, it wouldn’t matter; we’d be on our way soon, and it shouldn’t affect anything, even with our people still in the store. 

            _Yeah, and Deathscythe was made out of iron._   I had long lived by that danger sense of mine, and I would be a _fool_ to ignore it.  No matter what I wanted to forget, the lessons from my old life weren’t going anywhere.  “Hey, guys?  I’m going to walk back; I forgot something back at the shop.” 

            I started to wander back in the direction of my and ‘Liss’s shop as they drove off, waving, and waited until they turned a corner before trying to narrow down exactly what had set me off. 

-

***

-

**Sahara Desert**

            Robby was pacing. 

            It made Vaska nervous as all hell.  Robby, on the whole, did not _pace_.  That something had upset him enough to cause the action… it was unsettling. 

            Of course, the news of the food shortage _did_ fully warrant it, if he thought about it… especially once Robby had pointed out that it meant crack downs were coming on the rules concerning food, even though the current set-up was barely enough already.  They might have to break into the stash they’d been building up for their escape… 

            The blonde man stopped suddenly, and held a hand to his face.  “Nothing for it,” he announced at long last.  “It’s just going to take longer than we wanted.” 

-

***

-

**Near Bonn, Germany**

            “Yes, I was sent by RLTT to check on the progress.”  Dorothy handed over her identification and the paperwork from Relena verifying her purpose here, and was amused as the man checked it through thoroughly before handing it all back and gesturing for her to follow him as he launched into an explanation. 

            The foundations were already laid, amazingly enough…

            Working for Relena instead of Milliardo wasn’t terribly different, even while the two were complete opposites.  But this at least was _interesting_ , and she’d only be away a night before heading back to see the princess again.  She’d always enjoyed traveling, after all.  Relena had said that she wanted the surveying done quite regularly, and the locations were spread about…  She didn’t want to stray too far from home for long just yet, but next month it might be nice to spend a few weeks traveling more slowly between the sites. 

            And really, it was already coming along _so_ nicely. 

-

***

-

**Wolfsberg, Austria**

            “Now?” 

            “Shu’ uh an’ kee’ wash,” I grumbled through a bundle of explosives I _really_ didn’t need to bite into.  If Xu didn’t _whine_ so much on missions, I honestly wouldn’t mind working with him so much. 

            The Chinese man growled.  “We’re already behind on the timescale,” he hissed. 

            “No’ maa fal’,” I garbled back quietly, narrowing my eyes as I deftly re-entwined the wires on the electric lock.  Some bitch had superglued the damn panels down on the last two of these and it had taken longer than I’d wanted to realize that and cut the damn things apart.  _How the hell were they planning on reprogramming them?_   This one, though, was properly maintained… and had more safeguards, unfortunately. 

            We’d found an armory closet though, at least; the majority of any useful goods were stashed in the duffel on my back.  Xu was left unencumbered because really, he was the one who was quick on his feet and stood a better chance at defending us in a surprise fight no matter the conditions.  I inwardly grimaced.  _It’ll take me **years** to catch up to him, if it’s even **vaguely** possible._   If I was honest with myself, I’d just admit it was a lost cause and not bother… but some part of me _really_ didn’t like to back down. 

            Sometimes I still caught myself wondering if I could talk Duo into teaching me a few of his nastier chemical cocktails, if I found a way to discreetly visit him. 

            “Hil…” 

            “Shu’ uh!” I garbled slightly louder.  “Yor distacting…”  He just growled again. 

            He had a point, this _was_ taking longer than I liked, but seriously, I was working as fast as I could!  It wasn’t like I _wanted_ to be caught…  I was reasonably sure Duo wouldn’t come all the way to Austria to save my ass again, and this was a high security area, but we hadn’t tripped any alarms so far, and this _damn_ thing was almost-

            It beeped clear, and the door opened.  I heard Xu let out a sigh of relief as he slid past me to check the area over and I quick-stepped back to a light switch I’d already pulled free from the wall and started to rig up a timed surprise.  I worked my jaw a little once I’d pulled the main components out of my mouth, double checked my work, and re-secured the panel. 

            “We’re clear,” Xu muttered, seeming to just _appear_ at my side.  I did my damndest not to jump, but I was pretty sure he noticed.  “There were a few guards, but I got them; they weren’t exactly on point.” 

            “My favorite kind,” I muttered sardonically, grinning at him and digging into my original knapsack for my cans of paint.  Tossing one at him, I muttered, “Leave the first clear for me.” 

            He ducked away in a blur and I couldn’t help but sigh a little in jealousy.  The shithead was _fast_ …  I was fast, but not _that_ fast, at least not yet.  I popped the lid of the canister and shook it in my left hand as I reached into my bag again for a pretty solid cube of plastic.  Setting it down, I slung my bags into the next room before disengaging the handiwork I’d done on the lock. 

            The doors slammed closed… or tried, rather, since they’d stopped up on my block. 

            I grinned a little to myself as I slid through the space and turned to kick the thing back to me and have them slam all the way shut.  That _never_ would’ve worked on a colonial base.  Blast doors are made to just go _through_ anything in the way; a lost limb from a moronic cadet wasn’t anything compared to the risk of vacuum breach.  I could’ve rigged something up to still do what I had on one of those, but this was kinda funny, really. 

            In this day and age, with all the awful shit going on?  I took my kicks where I could find ‘em. 

            Looking around, I quickly spotted the camera from the view I’d memorized from the security feed, and smirked into it as I raised the can of paint to spray the lens.  I’d looped the feed to hide us from the start, but hadn’t had been able to outright cut the recording process without getting some attention; they’d see all this later, and I wanted them to know it was _me_. 

            I turned to find Xu done and tapped the grounding band on my wrist where a watch ought to sit; he returned with a ‘hurry up’ gesture.  I grimaced and dashed away from my bags, gesturing vaguely at them; he made an annoyed noise, but went back for them anyway. 

            _Bitch and moan._   Why did I have to have such a _whiny_ sidekick?  Seriously, he was here for the muscle and to watch my back, and the cavalry was almost here – I needed to get that hanger door open for the carrier.  He could afford to do a little of the damn handiwork too; I didn’t have _time_ to reinforce those doors. 

            _Fucking morons with superglue,_ I grumbled internally.  I would have had everything running smooth without that.  I wasn’t going anywhere without some damn fine razors anymore, I should have thought of that before… 

            Oh well, lesson learned, and the night was young yet.

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “Kay?” 

            “Hey,” I returned quietly, tugging my shirt over my head. 

            “What time is it?” Melissa asked sleepily.  I could see the curve of her body roughly in the bit of light coming from under the door; she really wasn’t awake enough to even sit up. 

            “Three or so,” I admitted, unbuckling my belt and squatting to grope around for my pajama pants.  “Sorry.” 

            “What were you doing?” 

            I sighed as I changed my pants, trying to decide if I really wanted to talk about it just now.  It hadn’t been pretty, once I started considering the long view.  I needed to talk to Luc about it for sure, which of course meant Melissa too, even if I had wanted to keep it from her outright…  But it was seriously three in the morning and I wasn’t even sure if she’d remember waking up later. 

            “I’ll tell you in the morning,” I said instead, laying down next to her.  “Go back to sleep.” 

            “Mm…”  She yawned, but her eyes were shut.  “You’re worried…” 

            “I’m always worried,” I countered playfully, sitting up on one elbow and reaching out to brush her hair out of her face.  “Go back to sleep.”  Seeing as she wasn’t truly awake in the first place, it didn’t take her long to do so… and I sighed, anxious as hell anyway. 

            Amsterdam had been one of the middle of the road sort of places for the fallout from the getgo, which was one of the reasons I’d decided to settle here; it had certainly had its fair share of problems.  Ever since I’d come, though, we’d had more than our fair share of luck, and the Netherlands had gotten around to having one of the healthier economies anymore.  The fact that it was one of the few remaining democratic zones whose laws the Regime largely respected was a bonus too, though I hadn’t really expected that to mean much to me. 

            But now, the fact that we were healthy enough to get brand new batches of refugees coming in?  That set me on edge.  New people meant an upset in the bit of balance we’d managed to get, especially with the Slingers gone.  If things were going to go downhill half as much as the news was predicting, there’d be a whole new batch of gangs just when we’d finished establishing ourselves as _not_ really being one. 

            I’d only just managed to mostly calm down because Amsterdam really _wasn’t_ the shitty part of L2.  It was a _lot_ nicer here…  But, not to be horribly hypocritical?  The neighborhood had just taken a dive.  Add a little chaos, and more is sure to follow. 

            _Heh, chaos… how damn fitting._

            People mostly just assumed Kay was short for Kasey, anymore, and nobody in our little circle bothered correcting them.  Maybe I should see if I could get myself some ID with the name on it… use Luc and Rina’s last name. 

            I hadn’t really expected to find family here, even if I’d been hoping for it; and I was still broody…  But I wasn’t the freaked out kid I’d been when I came here last year, either.  I wasn’t one of the new guys anymore.  Nobody really ever thought I might be one of the American refugees these days; my accent was spot on with all the other locals. 

            This wasn’t exactly impending doom.  Just… the end to our perfect little peace we’d gotten after the Slingers.  Nothing too bad, just not… perfect, I guess. 

            It probably would have gotten boring in another month or so anyhow, right?  We could play this fine. 

            It could be as easy as that, couldn’t it?

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**


	32. Pride & Practicality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a time and place for pride - when you earn it, is usually best. But practicality... it's probably best to never lose that, unless you want someone to steal the ground out from under you. Knowing when to put your pride back up on a shelf in favor of the real world is an important survival skill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grammar edits only on this one!

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_**Pride & Practicality** _

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**October 22 nd 197 – Sunday – Brussels, Belgium**

            Milliardo stared out over the grounds of the compound.  He liked the view at night: he could just see the edges of the city skyline through the glass.  It was comforting; his view from his childhood bedroom had been similar, with the lights from the suburbs of Sanc’s capital barely visible. 

            He sighed.  _Happier times…_   Noin had always scolded him when this mood came over him…

            But of course, Noin was gone, now, and it was becoming harder to feel any _other_ way. 

            _Noin…_   Was she dead, or had she simply abandoned him at last?  He had always relied on her more than he ever wanted to admit, even to himself; her absence now was a constant deep ache that he couldn’t shake away.  She’d simply fallen out of existence, and it felt as though half of him was _gone_ , never to return. 

            _I deserve it._   There was at least a sixty percent chance that his actions at the end of the battle of _Libra_ had ended her life.  He had run the scenarios so many times, when even three weeks after the crash she hadn’t resurfaced.  _Three out of five chances that **I** killed her._   That tore at him more than the thoughts of how many millions had died in the Americas at impact, how many more from the coming up on two years of fallout. 

            _I murdered the woman who loved me._   A woman who had been so _perfect_ … 

            “So this is where you’ve been sneaking off to.” 

            Milliardo grimaced and turned to glance back at Jake with a purposefully easy expression before looking back out the window.  “I like it here.” 

            “I really hope that glass is bulletproof,” the assassin commented idly as he came closer. 

            Milliardo didn’t bother gracing that with a response; they both knew the nearly floor to ceiling pane could withstand a small bomb.  “How is Relena?” 

            “Determined,” her bodyguard said simply as he leaned against the glass with his shoulder, looking out himself. 

            He couldn’t help but smile in pride at that.  “She always has been.  She was even as a baby.” 

            “All the stress she’s been under has only made her blossom,” Jake continued.  He didn’t look away from the view.  “She shines like a diamond now, and the people love her all the more for it.” 

            “That’s exactly as it should be.”  

            They kept a comfortable silence for a while: the prince sitting on the floor, back against the pillar by the window; the princess’ guard leaning easily against what appeared to be a thirty-story drop, looking out at the night.  They were old friends.  They’d known each other through trials and tribulation… but even as their trust of the other was absolute, they had never truly _talked_. 

            Noin had always been their medium, before. 

            “You’re sick,” Jake finally muttered, turning to look at him. 

            _Of course he realized…_   When Milliardo had tried to stop the man from maiming his father, he had unintentionally revealed his poor health.  Jake’s blow and toss had merely been meant to move him out of the way, not harm – but the harsh motions had dropped him, gasping, instead of merely delaying his returned attempts to end the fight for a few crucial seconds.  No one else seemed to have appreciated the significance of that, with the pure violence the man had already been displaying, but Miller knew his own strength as well as any martial artist. 

            If he had meant to hurt him, bones would have snapped. 

            “That’s one way to phrase it,” he returned after a moment, refusing to meet his friend’s gaze.  _Damaged_ would be a far more apt term.  The doctor had made it clear how lucky he was to have survived the electrical maelstrom Epyon’s cockpit had briefly become after Yuy’s last blow.  Pain from the tender new skin and careful stitching around the grafts was what had brought him to his knees when Jacob had thrown him last month, but in truth, the burns were only the tip of the iceberg. 

            His friend looked back at the scenery as he mulled that over in his mind for a minute.  After another, much shorter, silence, he asked, “Is it permanent?” 

            “Not entirely.”  The grafts had finally taken fully in August, and he would be able to move freely again eventually; but the myocardial and nervous tissue damage was something he would always have to consider.  That in mind, he added, “It could be far worse.” 

            Jake looked to him again.  “How long of a lookout?” 

            _Ever practical._   That was something he had always appreciated about the other soldier; he kept life simple and to the point.  He respected others’ privacy and restricted his queries to capacity.  “March, at the latest.” 

            His friend nodded, looking back out again.  Milliardo could tell from his body language that he wasn’t done yet, though.  “What?” 

            He snorted.  “You’re sad about more than that, but I couldn’t think of a non-offensive way to bring it up.” 

            The prince grimaced again, looking away as the emotions came slamming back into place.  Miller’s blasé suspiciousness had been pleasantly distracting.  “Just…”  Of course, Jake could understand regrets such as this.  “Noin.” 

            He sighed, closing his eyes and resting his face against the glass.  “Yeah…  Noin.  I see more and more of her in Relena, as days go by.” 

            “You do?”  He really couldn’t. 

            “Yeah… that same resolve.”  He smiled softly.  “Won’t take shit from nobody.  Well, getting there, anyway.” 

            Milliardo considered his memory of his little sister pointedly telling him to mind his own business when he had contested some of the areas on her tour.  How she had outright dressed him down for visiting her in Barcelona… and couldn’t help a smile of his own.  _Yes…  That **is** very like Noin._   “I suppose you’re right.” 

            And that wave of despair threatened to crash over him again. 

            There was silence for another long moment before Jake sighed again and shifted his weight, though he didn’t open his eyes.  “Stop that.”  His tone was tired. 

            Zechs couldn’t help a sad smile from crossing his face.  Noin had always said the same thing, before trying to distra- 

            He grunted in surprise as a boot collided sharply with his shin, looking up to Jake to find him still with his eyes closed, leaning against the glass.  “I said stop it,” he noted, idly crossing the offending foot behind the calf he was resting all his weight on.  “She always told me that brooding wasn’t healthy.”  Opening one eye to give him a weighing look, he added, “I’m not above knocking some sense back into you, injured or not.” 

            Milliardo smirked, rubbing at the bruise forming up on his shin.  “I’d noticed,” he commented dryly before looking back out the window. 

            “You need to do something.” 

            “Why would you say that?”  He honestly had no desire to move. 

            “Zechs, you’re sitting alone in the dark in a completely unfurnished room, staring out into oblivion for all that you’re seeing of it.”  He’d stood up straight now, and was giving him an exasperated sort of look.  “Lu would kill me if I honestly left you up here to feel bad for more than an hour.” 

            “Mm.”  He considered contesting the ‘alone’ part, as Jake was now there, but knew the other man well enough to realize that he would only use it to make him look childish. 

            “I doubt you would enjoy me kicking you down the stairs.” 

            Milliardo turned an icy glare on the other soldier, trying to piece together his intent from his facial expression.  The problem with Jake was that it was incredibly likely that he was entirely serious when he suggested something like that – his head spun oddly. 

            The other man’s face was entirely amused, now.  “I could throw you, if you’d rather; we might go faster that way.” 

            Milliardo supposed he grimaced again as he stood; it honestly wasn’t worth the risk of testing him.  “Where are we going, then?” he asked resignedly. 

            “There’s this twenty-four hour café that serves great pie, a little ways into town.  You need to get out more, and if you can trust me with your sister, it should be fine for just you and me to split for a couple hours.” 

            He halfway wanted to argue, security measures… but at the same time, the idea sounded incredibly… liberating.  If no one knew they were going ahead of time, this late, there shouldn’t be a problem; not with Miller on alert.  “Alright,” he agreed, feeling a smile stretch its way across his face.  “Let me get my shoes.” 

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***

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            “How’s Dorothy?” 

            Relena rolled her eyes, stretching out on the couch, trying to see if she could touch her toes.  “Just as bouncy as ever, now.”  She couldn’t help her little smirk.  “But she’s exactly as particular as I wanted her to be when surveying, or anything else I ask her to get done, so that says something too.” 

            David laughed.  “That _has_ to be a respect thing,” he decided. 

            The princess smiled, twisting around a little so she faced forward, and pulled her legs into a butterfly stretch.  “I also told her that if she got bored I’d give her something else and get someone else to survey.” 

            “ _Oh_ , so she has a _choice_ ,” Dave returned knowingly.  “Smart, smart, Princess…” 

            She rolled her eyes.  “You’re patronizing me.”  Though like with Jake, at least  ‘princess’ was always a title, not an endearment. 

            “Aww, no,” the grown man whined at her.  “I’m teasing, Lena, there’s a difference, come on…” 

            “You _used_ to be shy,” she noted skeptically. 

            He started sniggering again.  “I’m sorry, you didn’t have money on that, did you?” 

            Relena couldn’t help but giggle a little herself at that; his smile was infectious, and that was exactly the same phrase he had given Jake when he annoyed the blonde man into making her same comment weeks ago. 

            David Mitchell was an entirely different person around strangers from when he was comfortable with you.  Really, it was probably one of the reasons he and Jake got on so well. 

            _Speaking of…_   “I think he must have found him,” she decided, looking at the clock.  Her bodyguard had muttered something about Milliardo disappearing all too often lately and that he should hang out with him

            David just kept snickering.  “Well, _yeah_ , he’s _Jake_.”  He only laughed harder when she threw a pillow at him.  “Sorry, but you’re stuck with me instead of Blondie tonight…” 

            She rolled her eyes.  “That sounds _great_.”  He only laughed again. 

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***

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**October 23 rd 197 – Monday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “Hey, stranger.” 

            They spun around at my greeting, and I could see all but one of them immediately dismissing me.  That was all well and good for the moment; that last one was probably just wondering how I had managed to sneak up on them.  I’d always been pretty good at stalking – it was more balance than anything – but playing around with Kay had perfected what mistakes I still made. 

            I didn’t want to start this off offensively, so it was good that I wasn’t in my militia uniform, and good that they saw a 5’7 teenage girl instead of the half-assed fighting stance I loosely stood in; I wanted to be ready to move, all the same. 

            Now that they’d noticed me, I started to move in closer, playing as though purely curious.  They were trying to fiddle open the lock and chain across the doors of a building that had been abandoned for a while now. 

            _Of course… shelter.  They must be some of our new refugees._  

            “They’re going to check that pretty regular,” I warned them.  They were around my age, roughly; maybe a little older, but not by much.  “If you want to play that game, you need to find a less obvious way in and out and leave the front looking pretty.  I’d suggest getting your own place soon, though; it’ll get too cold here to manage without some heat, or at least better insulation than that place has, soon.”  We’d looked about this old set-up as a Den before we settled on where we currently paid our rent back when Luc had first yanked me back out of the red-light district, and I knew for a fact that the property was pretty damn drafty. 

            There were reasons it was still abandoned. 

            They all turned suspicious eyes on me, and I shrugged.  It wasn’t as if the information cost me anything…  and damn, but I knew what it was to be cold and hungry.  These guys probably just wanted somewhere to sleep without worrying that someone was going to rob them blind while their guard was down. 

            “Who are you?” one asked in English with a heavy Swiss accent.  I was glad I’d picked English to start with. 

            “Devils’ Get,” I dismissed with another shrug.  If he didn’t know what the phrase meant, he’d learn soon enough – we’d picked the name in part because of the implied intimidation in it.  When our home had transformed into hell, we hadn’t had any choice but to fight just to be left alone and not taken advantage of. 

            I really hoped this wasn’t a return to those days, like Kay was worrying.  I _really_ hoped we could manage all these folks coming in without having to hurt them, that no group like Cal’s Slingers would rise up again…  I was relatively sure Kay was on the lookout to keep just that from happening, and he was talking about all of it with Luc and Shov and me all the time, considering the new logistics of the situation every day, practically. 

            This last spring and summer had been so nice…  I didn’t want to go back under again any further than I had to.  It was getting damned cold again, and we had to ration out food, and that was bad enough without anything else starting up. 

            “Just don’t cause trouble, and nobody’ll mind you trying to slip through the cracks,” I told them quietly.  “Most people in this city, especially this part of town, have been just as far down as you are; we know what it’s like.” 

            “What do you want?” another asked brusquely. 

            “Nothing,” I clarified, shaking my head and taking a step back to make my body language clear and non-threatening.  “Just don’t cause trouble.  Don’t bring the Regime down with a vengeance, and we’ll try to keep the neighborhood nice enough.  Don’t make a bother for us, and we won’t make any about you.  If you need a hand, we might even be able to help now and again.”  I stood straight and let my eyes harden, moving into more of a beginning form, and felt them shift away form me.  “Wreak any havoc and we’ll put it down hard and fast,” I finished in German. 

            My English wasn’t bad, but I’d gotten further in German in school and with my friends, and I knew the slang and not just the formal version and snippets I had for English.  These guys were either Swiss or German by their accents, which meant they definitely knew German best out of the three. 

            The one who’d been suspicious of me first frowned more thoughtfully, and paused before slowly, in German, asking, “You don’t like the Regime?” 

            “The war ended two years ago,” I returned sharply.  “The Regime’s trying to rebuild; I don’t see anyone else doing a better job yet.  You want to pick a new fight, do it somewhere else – we only want to get by, here.” 

            They looked slightly taken aback at my tone, but didn’t seem angry.  I raised one brow; maybe they were only curious, or trying to avoid partisan company themselves.  “Alright?” I asked. 

            They all nodded a bit, and the one who had asked about Regime opinion actually smiled a little as he did.  “ _Danke_ ,” he muttered as well, turning to look back at the doors before glancing back my way again.  “Do you know another way in?” 

            I smiled a little myself; I could work with this guy.  “That one over there’s a better bet,” I returned quickly in Dutch, pointing to a building that looked far worse, but I knew had better insulation. 

            “Really?” he returned skeptically in German, eying the thing before looking back to me questioningly. 

            Oh good, he knew some Dutch; his chances were much better for getting work and blending in sooner.  “I looked through all these after _Libra_ ,” I explained in German, so there wasn’t any chance he could misunderstand.  “It just needs new paint, and the floors are bad; the walls are better.  It stays warmer.”  I thought for a moment before deciding the information couldn’t hurt; he might already know it.  “The Devils’ Den is over on Sylvester, maybe a kilometer that way,” I pointed in the general direction of my home.  “You’ll probably see us around fair often.” 

            He nodded again, thoughtfully this time, and gestured the others with him to go look at the other building before meeting my eyes one last time.  “My name is George.” 

            “I’m Melissa,” I returned amicably before taking a few steps back and waving.  “I’ll see you around.” 

            All things considered, that could have gone _much_ worse. 

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**October 25 th 197 – Wednesday – Lyon, France**

            Cathy turned a dubious look on the audience, balancing a knife on the tip of one finger, setting off another round of laughter.  Shaking her head in an exasperated way, she turned back to the obviously terrified clown and took a very exaggerated stance, pulling her arm back to throw.  Again, Celeste squealed and ducked, knees knocking together, and the audience roared with laughter. 

            Catherine smiled a little, even as she threw up her hands and turned away, crossing her arms.  However much she missed Trowa, the routine she ran with their new clown was a lot more fun.  She loved her little brother dearly, but he didn’t know a _thing_ about theatrics; people had come here to be entertained, and giving them what they wanted, sending them home happy and satisfied, was just good business sense.  At least half of their clients had heard about the show purely by word of mouth, so keeping them all excited was an absolute necessity – especially when fewer could afford to come at all, anymore. 

            This was their second to last show on Earth, at least for the next six months; business just wouldn’t be good enough here, so it was back to the colonies for a while.  She often felt halfway closeted up up there, but unlike a couple years ago, the people were just _happier_ , and that made a whole world of difference. 

            That, and very few colonials had ever had the chance to see _any_ animals beyond household cats and dogs – there was always a sense of wonder up there when it came to nature’s quirks that the Earthborn took for granted. 

            _It really is for the best,_ she supposed.  She didn’t get to see her brother as often when she was in the colonies, seeing as most of the time he was running around Europe, but staying dirtside was just asking for trouble, this winter.  And Trowa might like trouble, but she was perfectly happy to keep as far away from it as she could. 

            She looked over her shoulder when Celeste squawked at her, pretending to really consider the clown’s renewed courage to have sharp things thrown at her.  They continued on with their little act, Catherine eventually pinning the other woman through her clothes – though not without a few more deviations due to the girl’s supposed fear – before helping her free so they could take a bow and clear the stage for the next part of the show. 

            _Things’ll work themselves out,_ she decided, trying to wipe the worry out of her mind.  _They always do, one way or another._  

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***

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**October 26 th 197 – Thursday – L2**

            Leia sighed as she leaned back, putting together how to present her case; people could be stubborn about the stupidest things, sometimes, and not getting her patient’s back up was likely pivotal to his survival.  It was better on the colonies than the planet for the most part, but life was still far from easy, and there was always – at least on L2 – a very clear distinction between those who could manage and the impoverished. 

            Poverty was L2’s curse; she would swear the destitution was never as severe on the other colonies.  In a lot of ways, it was the oldest.  L1, the original civilian cluster, was technically much older, but they had refitted multiple times over the years to stay up to date.  The population of L1 was more beneficial to the upkeep, which in turn brought in more money, keeping the stations afloat.  While L3 and L4 had developed an aristocracy to keep the economy level in the form of the Barton and Winner families, L1 and the majority of the L5 clusters instead had a high-income working class holding it together. 

            The original construction of L2 had been… a little typically _American_.  Their population had boomed, it was the fastest to rise, and the cluster had certainly had its time in the spotlight at the head of the pack.  Unfortunately, the lack of organization and planning had eventually caught up, and its people had never recovered.  There were generally a number of programs going on to try to solve the multitude of problems, but the scope could only go so far on limited funding, and the sunken depression of the majority of the populace when it came to improvement didn’t help; they were more than aware that little had helped in over a hundred years. 

            That downtrodden yet opportunistic attitude was the defining characteristic of L2’s poor.  They knew they could get by, but they didn’t expect to do more than claw their way through.  The consequential misbehavior spurred on a stronger authoritarian approach, however, which only increased resentment of those trying to keep society from going to utter hell.  The cycle repeated and turned in on itself… and the water tanks and ventilation tanks were not sectioned out enough to keep plagues from simply _spreading_ when they hit. 

            It was fair to say that a lot of the less attractive points of L2 history had been directly caused by the plagues and panicked attempts at quarantine when they simply didn’t have the resources to manage it… _humanely_. 

            “You’re malnourished and dehydrated,” she began bluntly, resting her hands on her knees and leaning forward to meet the young man’s eyes.  “Whatever your situation is, your biggest problem is that you’re not getting nearly enough water.”  When he bit his lip, she added, “I can get you one or two bottles, if you have to walk a ways to get it, but you _need_ more – that’s why you’ve been feeling so tired and dizzy.”  Sighing a little, she sat up straight.  “As it is, you’re looking at maybe a couple months before you get delirious, and it’s downhill from there.” 

            He nodded a little, still biting his lip; he was staring at the floor. 

            Leia bit her own lip with irritation and no small amount of worry, reaching into the cabinet next to her and pulling out two big plastic bottles.  This hospital doubled as a clinic for those who couldn’t afford any medical care but needed it, and the dehydration wasn’t exactly an uncommon problem.  “Here.” 

            He started, then blinked at the things for a moment before taking them.  “Thanks,” he muttered quietly. 

            _Okay, maybe he’s a little more far gone than I thought,_ Leia worried.  “Also, chances are you’re not getting some of the nutrients you need… particularly iron.  Have you looked at your eyes lately?” 

            The youth swallowed.  “Yeah, Jimmy said the color was startin’ to come out.” 

            That was one way to phrase it, she supposed; the iris color was starting to invade the white of the sclera in one place, and the line was far from distinct everywhere else.  _At least he’s already noticed,_ she thought with relief.  “Relena Peacecraft started up a program to provide essential multi-vitamins at no charge several weeks back,” she told him.  “That’s not exclusive to Earth.  If you can give me the names of you and your friends, maybe get down here once every few weeks, I can get you all down on the list for your share.” 

            He met her eyes for the first time, looking surprised, and when she only smiled gently at him, he grinned broadly.  _Poor thing._   It was people like him that had really made her want to be in medicine.  Not for the first time, though, she mentally thanked the Peacecraft girl for giving her the means to help a few more. 

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***

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**Prague, Czech Republic**

            Hilde frowned, carrot hanging from her mouth, as she watched the news channel. 

            “What?” 

            “Tha’ is sho no’ fair,” she argued, gesturing at the screen and taking the vegetable out of her mouth so she’d stop slurring.  “We didn’t do _that_.  That’s stupid, some moron with no thought for an agenda did that!” 

            Sally turned curious eyes on the screen herself, stepping away from the counter she’d been standing at while drinking her tea; it was just too late in the day for coffee.  The Prague underground from the original city was amazingly modern in a lot of ways, even while still being hidden; this was her private ‘apartment’ as it were.  She didn’t mind Hilde’s company, this evening or most, when they both had the time to relax – the younger girl’s horrible table manners aside.  They were generally pretty amusing, actually.  One of the things she loved about Hilde was that, despite everything, she was still such a kid at heart. 

            The world could use a few more people like that. 

            Considering the news report that had caught Hilde’s attention, though, she chuckled.  “If they really think it was our doing, then I suppose that’s their problem,” she decided good-naturedly, taking another sip from her mug. 

            “That was a stupid thing to do, though,” the girl argued, obviously offended.  “It gives _no_ strategic advantage.” 

            Sally shrugged, leaning her hip against the back of the couch.  “So either they have no head for tactics, or they were local and it seemed that important.”  She considered the details being given out, and shrugged.  “Looks like they did a good enough job.”  She smiled into her mug as she took another drink, though, and once she came back up for air, she noted, “Though whoever it was is probably irritated that we got the credit, considering how showy they made it.”  There was a _lot_ of fire involved with that base;  someone was a little arson-happy. 

            That got Hilde to grin a little, though it quickly changed to a sad smile… which meant she was probably thinking about whatever had happened in Amsterdam.  The girl had steadfastly refused to give details about her escape beyond the fact that she had had help that had only been too happy to pin the blame on the most well heard of rebel group lead by Sally Po. 

            She had her suspicions, of course, but if the girl was this adamant about not talking about it then presumably there was a reason.  Secrets had a tendency of coming out in their own time, and considering how non-urgent it was, Sally was more than willing to simply leave it alone; she had more than enough on her plate already.  “I’m not going to complain about someone making my job easier,” she added to the dark-haired youth.  “It may not have been strategic, but less resources is still less for me to work against.” 

            Hilde rolled her eyes a little and nodded, picking her carrot back up and easing back into the couch cushions as she flipped to a different channel.  Sally only shook her head and went back to the paperwork at the breakfast bar.  _Kids and their pride…_  

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***

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**October 28 th 197 – Saturday – China**

            “Are you done being a woman yet?” 

            Wufei snapped around to _glare_ at the interloper… who, surprisingly, wasn’t Shui, but Kailì, fiddling with that damn toothpick he always seemed to have in his mouth.  That left him on slightly less even footing.  He knew he was the superior engineer for the most part, in terms of ingenuity, but Kailì had been doing this for years, and had experience of every kind under his belt. 

            Unfortunately, no matter what he said or did, he was just due a certain amount of respect. 

            The older man only smirked and shifted to lean against the wall, completely nonplussed.  “You know, when I ask my wife that, she usually just asks if I’m ready to stop being a man.”  When Wufei only scowled and turned back to his work, the other engineer rolled his eyes in an exaggerated way and fiddled with the piece of wood in his mouth.  “I’ll take that as a no, then.” 

            “Why don’t you mind your own business?” Wufei asked, his tone acrid.  He knew it was a bad idea to thrash the other engineer, but the urge was rising quickly just the same. 

            “Because you’ve been acting like my daughter after she got snubbed by some boy for _weeks_ now,” Kailì returned in that same nonchalant tone, watching him through lidded eyes.  “I’m taking pity on you.”  When Wufei just stopped still, he added, “I’ve been led to the belief that venting often helps.” 

            _If everyone could just leave me to get my damn **work** done,_ he snarled silently, taking a deep breath and trying to force the same calm into his blood that he’d been relying on for the past few weeks.  “I am _not_ one of your _daughters_ ,” he growled after a moment. 

            “I’d noticed, actually; you’re considerably more temperamental.  I am not looking forward to when they reach your age, boy.” 

            There was only so much he could tolerate; if this was Shui, it would be different, but he didn’t even _know_ Kailì.  He snapped around, chambering and throwing a punch- 

            -and cried out as electricity ran through the limb.  He launched backwards on pure instinct, the muscles in his arm going into spasms, but the shock not extending to the rest of his body.  He started shaking it out, cursing, and looked back over to Kailì… 

            The bastard was holding up what appeared to be a civilian style taser, his expression completely unimpressed.  “I don’t make a habit of fighting fair,” he noted dryly, still fiddling with that damn toothpick.  “Especially not with hand-to-hand specialist war heroes.” 

            Damn it, the feeling was just _starting_ to come back in his hand, and it hurt more than he liked to admit.  “I’m not a hero,” he snapped.  “My life is just a series of one mistake after another.” 

            “Cry, cry,” Kailì returned sardonically, finally standing up straight.  “You’re the one my baby asks to tell her stories about at bedtime.”  Grimacing, he spat the toothpick out into his empty hand and pocketed it.  “Most heroes are really one big sob story, that only strengthens the qualifications.”  He shook his head, his smirk now a little sad.  “You need to learn to take what you _do_ get, kid.” 

            He started to walk off, then hesitated, looking over his shoulder.  “Oh, you’re coming to dinner at my house tonight.” 

            Wufei frowned, still shaking his arm out.  “What?” 

            “My wife is a good cook,” he dismissed, as though that explained everything.  Raising his brows, he added, “If you make her smack me for cooking for too many people, I’ll do something to piss you off.”  He turned to walk away again, and made an annoyed, pained noise, rolling his shoulder, muttering under his breath. 

            Wufei couldn’t help a little bit of a smirk at that; for that stunt, the asshole had deserved at least one hit. 

-

***

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**October 30 th 197 – Monday – Belgrade, Serbia**

            Adam considered the men – and women – laid out on the ground with a grimace.  It wasn’t that he regretted his actions, but… 

            It was starting to get ridiculous. 

            This was the fourth little uprising he had put down in two weeks – cases where the people honestly had no hope of accomplishing something meaningful but had headed full-bore into disaster anyhow.  At this rate, he was starting to wonder if the favor he was doing was for them or the Regime. 

            If the frequency went any higher, then it would probably be the latter. 

            _I should start leaving Chang’s contact information,_ he thought in amusement as he shook his head and walked away.  His victims probably assumed he had been some sort of black ops agent from the Regime; it would be nice to correct them.  _Make up some business cards…_   The Chinese man would certainly _not_ appreciate the sentiment, of course, but Po might like the chance at picking through new recruit options.  And annoying Xutao was an entertaining prospect by itself; he found himself actually missing his company, some days. 

            Well, it would be amusing so long as he wasn’t dead, anyway; he hadn’t tried to actively check on that since they had parted ways.  He didn’t feel ready to open that door to Po’s people yet, especially after he hadn’t gotten a choice about Treize’s.  His skin still felt a little too tight for him, after that. 

            He stepped into a convenience store and went to grab a bottle of water out of the cooler – prices on that hadn’t gone up, at least – and also picked up a considerably more expensive sandwich and vitamin packet before going up to the register.  They still had fruit here, but he wasn’t going to waste the money on it when he could get the supplements; the price on the oranges really _was_ steep. 

            Paying, he allowed himself to really consider… and decide that it was unlikely Chang was dead.  Xutao was a big enough thorn in the Regime’s side that he would have heard something on the news by now, and that was relatively good proof of his safety.  He supposed he should send something to both Chang and Treize’s e-mails; the increase in activity was worrying, especially considering the cases where it went unreported, as with the latest group he had just disabled and robbed of their more violent resources. 

            He checked his watch as he approached the bus stop; it was only a few minutes until it was scheduled to arrive, so there shouldn’t be any problem with the morons waking up before he was gone.  So long as he didn’t do anything to make anyone want to look in his knapsack-   _Actually, I should find somewhere to rearrange it a little more carefully._  Make sure there were no possible odd bulges or clanks – and of course, that nothing dangerous and recognizable was near the _top_. 

            The rooftop a few buildings down from the bus stop was easy enough to reach. 

            He had quite a few stashes of weaponry at this point, and was actually headed back to one to deposit his latest winnings before he found more trouble to dive into – his bag was getting full.  He had considered selling the things he _acquired_ , or offering the ammunitions to one group or another, but something in him balked at the idea. 

            It was never good to run out of munitions. 

            Sighing slightly, he headed back down just in time to catch his ride and settled into a seat by the window, his bag stashed above his head.  If tension was running high enough to make him want to act more purely on his old survival instincts, it was likely the same thing causing these smaller groups great enough frustration to act stupidly.  Stress was high enough to brew mass amounts of trouble from just the _news_ that a food crisis was on its way. 

            _What will happen once the crisis is actually **here**?  _

            Hopefully they wouldn’t be in it long before the relief from Relena’s new hydroponics complexes kicked in, but relying on hope had a tendency of getting people killed.  His memories were fuzzy at best, but he _knew_ hope was a dangerous beast, seconded only by desperation.  They led to good people going to terrible lengths… to either destroy or remake the world.  If there was really a difference between the two, anyhow.  Change destroyed what _was_ , and any devastation?  Well, it was in the name. 

            He wouldn’t be where he was, _who_ he was, if not for some pretty terrible things, so he figured that was alright. 

            The easy contentment that slid over him with that thought suggested that he had always believed just that, or something close to it, and he liked when it happened.  The more he put together about his old self, the more he was realizing he wasn’t so much different as… more.  He thought he was happier; he couldn’t remember ever really feeling as he did now, which might mean nothing, but at least meant he had no regrets.  Trying to remember had gotten to be an exercise in frustration, so he’d decided he didn’t care – he was going to do what he felt like. 

            He wasn’t sure he liked who he had been, but at least he knew now that the nameless soldier wouldn’t have minded him one way or another. 

-

***

-

**November 1 st 197 – Wednesday – Brussels, Belgium**

            Relena couldn’t help but smile and shake her head a little as Jake shifted against her pant leg, getting his hair all staticky… rather, more so, at any rate. 

            “I still can’t believe it,” Dorothy noted in fascination, watching him from where she sat on her knees maybe a foot away on the floor. 

            “He’s sick,” Relena noted dryly, turning back to her laptop, where she was intermittently reading reports from those she had put in charge of various projects around the world and colonies.  Her bodyguard had had all the classic signs upon waking; the fever, horrible congestion, extreme sleepiness, general malaise and irritability…  She hadn’t planned on going adventuring today anyhow, though, so there hadn’t been any reason to either make him more miserable or call in his boys to take his place when they were already stationed outside the room.  He wasn’t in his pajamas, but none of them were going out so they weren’t in any sort of formal dress either. 

            It was actually nice to see him in the baggy pants and faded t-shirts he had worn when she first met him.  He looked good in uniform, of course, but… it was nice to see the softer side of him too.  He was _good_ at what he did, without a doubt, but while he was generally invigorating and happy, he seemed so much gentler in normal dress… less an ally and figure in his own right, and more a friend.  _I should make a point to have more stay in days,_ she decided.  It was nice to be able to simply relax a bit and get the more quiet end of work done without worrying about appearances.  She’d rather missed being able to wear jeans and walk around barefoot.  It was one of the advantages to staying in one place, she supposed. 

            And while she hadn’t thought it before, the Brussels base _had_ become home sometime while she was traveling.  She had never really _liked_ the place, but it was comforting to be back where everything was familiar and she didn’t have to remember to keep everything in line by herself, because the base policies already covered those fronts.  Not that Jake hadn’t handled most of that without her, but… there was still a difference. 

            “I think he’s drooling,” Dorothy announced, still thoroughly enthralled, for whatever reason. 

            “Fascinating,” Relena noted, not bothering to look.  Dorothy, of course, was trussed up in all her finery… but really, Dorothy had no concept of what dressing down _was_.  The Romefeller heiress was simply like that, and it wasn’t worth raising the subject. 

            The girl turned to her in horror.  “Relena, he’s _drooling_ on your couch!” 

            “Don’t wake him up,” the princess admonished as the man shifted, reaching over to twitch the blanket a little tighter around him.  “I think he’s earned the right to a little drool, Dorothy, honestly.”  Jake worked as hard as she did, around the clock.  _If not harder,_ she mused to herself, resisting the urge to run a hand through his messy hair; she would probably wake him up, and she was relatively sure that, despite announcing that he wasn’t on duty today, there was at least _one_ gun somewhere in the couch cushions or his pants… possibly both.  His boots were by her feet, and she could _see_ a rather big knife tucked to one side somehow. 

            That was something she had never realized when she first met him – Jake was _always_ armed, and in more than one way.  The months of living in very close quarters had caused her to put together that even when dressed casual or in his pajamas, he was… precise.  His jeans were baggy, but he always wore boots, the laces tied tightly.  She was almost positive that the two identical, distinct bands he always wore on his right wrist served a purpose.  He was usually in uniform anymore, but he hadn’t _completely_ forgone jeans in general, and she had realized today that all his pants were baggy in the exact same way – and she had bumped into him once or twice over the past few weeks, to feel that there was definitely something metal strapped to his legs, more often than not.  He was hardly shy about wearing an outright shoulder holster over his shirt but under his jacket, and he generally walked without his jacket when they were indoors, leaving the weapon exposed, but as he had made his point before, he never had only _one_ firearm on him.  The obvious one was purposefully misleading. 

            Jake could be frighteningly good at misdirection, when he wanted to be.  David Mitchell and the other bodyguards usually dismissed a great deal of his habits revolving around just that to his experience in espionage… and considering how experienced her friend seemed to be, she would imagine that the ingrained habits had probably saved him once or twice.  He was incredibly economical most of the time, very focused on efficiency even while he indulged whims without a care… and yet he knew how to dance circles around most problems and get exactly what he wanted. 

            It was one of the reasons she had gotten so far so quickly, she would readily admit.  She was good, but Colonel Miller had taught her more than a few tricks and helped hone her mind to have a much sharper edge… and she was uncomfortably aware that he had positively done it entirely on purpose.  She had needed it, or rather it would have taken her much longer, with quite a few more mistakes, without the advice and guidance he had offered, but… 

            She appreciated what he had done, but was trying to take a step back, now.  She _knew_ she could do this, now, and she appreciated the support, but Jacob Miller, while often brilliant, was just that: support.  She had been mildly worried that he would be offended at first, think she was shunning or avoiding him for a silly reason when she made a point to draw a distinct line between his and her work, but it had been entirely unfounded.  Instead, he had only seemed… excited.  She had felt bad about leaving him in the dark about a few of her proposals before sending them into RLTT at first, but he had simply jumped on the replies and new work with fresh kind vigor. 

            She had the distinct impression that the emotion he seemed to outright ooze lately, other than that sheer vivaciousness, was _pride_. 

            He was subtle enough about it…  He didn’t want to patronize her any more than she wanted to admit the childish points that she had had – maybe a few of which she still retained – when they had met, but he was still _proud_ of who she was becoming… and, well, she supposed _she_ was more than a little proud of herself, so nobody needed to rub in how badly off she had once been.  He was a sort of constant, easy source of acceptance.  He didn’t try to rule her at all: pointedly just followed her lead, as the incident in Munich had shown. 

            She knew she would never have to worry about him turning on her, the way Milliardo had with _Libra_. 

            He was better than that. 

            “Mm, I’m going to get my computer,” Dorothy decided, standing and heading over to the door. 

            “Alright.”  Maybe after she finished reading and responding to the progress reports they could watch a movie.  She had another tour planned to start in three weeks, but until then, or at least until a new idea came to her, it was just time to sit back and maintain what work she already had in progress. 

            And really, between China and the amplifiers, the militia, vitamin production, complex construction, and seemingly a million and one locally personalized ventures around the continent, it was actually quite a lot. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            Kasey von Koll fought the urge to grumble as he walked.  He really had nothing to be annoyed about, he hadn’t had any trouble… 

            Which, actually, was the problem.  Getting false identification papers, even such high quality ones as those now tucked safely into his knapsack, had been disgustingly easy. 

            He was still trying to work out if it really _had_ been, though, or if he just thought so because no matter what he wanted, he was still Duo _fucking_ Maxwell.  Neither idea put him in a good mood.  If it was the first, then there was probably a _lot_ more trouble underfoot in Amsterdam than he had thought.  If it was the second…

            It made him start to wonder if he would ever change, if he even _could_ … or if he ever had at all.  It made him wonder if anything he had done in the past year had really mattered; if any of it had really been worth it.  Had he made any kind of difference, or was it all still the same?  He _knew_ how easily everything could just be snatched away, no matter what promises he made…  So much had changed, but at the same time, he couldn’t tell if anything had at all. 

            He knew it really _didn’t_ matter, that he was happy and that made whatever else happened okay, but at the same time? 

            Amsterdam was regressing into exactly the state it had been in when he arrived, flush with new, desperate refugees.  The granaries were near here, so in a sense people had flocked to water and food, and really, Brussels was only a stone’s throw away, so they were coming closer to the seat of the government too…  It wouldn’t make any _actual_ difference to their quality of life, but it did make sense, on an instinctual level.  The problem was that flooding a relatively healthy area with problems didn’t solve said problems – it just drug more people down.  He had already had to prove that the Devils weren’t a group to be messed with to more than a few people, and while he knew it needed to be done to keep them all safe, it was far from enjoyable.  He didn’t like scaring people that reminded him so much of himself. 

            And it was only going to get worse as winter grew deeper and everyone continued to get more high-strung. 

            He sighed softly as he turned a corner and the shop came into view, a smile creeping up his face.  It looked _nice_.  The last time he had a place he could honestly claim that looked nice was Maxwell Church, with its neat paint and stained glass.  The shop was hardly beautiful the way the church had been, but it was… elegant, almost, in a tidy, practical way.  The green Plexiglas of the big front window arch correlated with the dark green of the open drive and front door, and the color alone was a breath of fresh air.  One of the reasons they had settled on green was because Melissa said people missed the green of the plants most had a hard time keeping alive anymore, or that it was hopeful, that it promised spring… 

            And he liked green.  Green was a good readout, the protection of a beam scythe, or the coding layout on his screens.  No matter how much he’d like to forget the war, he couldn’t deny that green was comforting, probably the same way that dim, red light set his girl on edge. 

            _His_ girl… he had never had anyone to claim before Amsterdam.  He had _been_ Father Maxwell’s, Sister Helen’s, but they had never really been _his_.  It had always been _Solo’s_ crew before that, even after Solo died and it had been Duo holding them together.  On some level he’d always felt like Deathscythe was practically a person, a true friend, especially with the odd way the light seemed to catch in his buddy’s eyes at seemingly key moments… but that was grasping at straws and he knew it.  He understood enough about psychotic breaks and general stress reactions to realize that he’d just been _that_ lonely, and his gundam had just been the only real constant to rely on. 

            Amos was over today, and smiled broadly as he spotted him, waving before ducking back inside.  Kay smiled.  Amos had really come a long way in the past year, and the kid had a real knack for machines, the same way Duo always had.  He was learning fast… it was kinda a good thing Father Espen hadn’t been able to get him that government-paid locksmithing apprenticeship last summer, seeing as he wouldn’t have had the time to learn this.  _Well,_ he thought, smirking, _if he **really** wants to learn that still, I could teach him locks too._   Amos was responsible enough that Duo trusted him not to get himself into any illicit bullshit with the knowledge; the Father had raised him better than that. 

            Actually, Amos was kinda _his_ too, these days. 

            Nobody was in the garage, so he went over into the office area, where the church orphan was sorting out jobs in terms of what he knew he could do alone, with help, and what he wanted to work on with either Kay or ‘Liss so he could learn.  _Mm, he probably just got here himself; he had school today._  

            The boy looked up as he came in.  “We’ve got a house call set up for four o’clock,” he noted.  “They just called in – their fridge went out.” 

            Duo nodded.  “Alright.  You told them to keep it shut, right?” 

            “Yep.” 

            “Good.”  The thing would still insulate the cold air already inside it for a while.  “Where’s ‘Liss?” 

            “They’re upstairs,” Amos returned distractedly, reading the details on a job. 

            _They?_   Kay checked his watch.  _Oh, right, Rina’s shift starts in half an hour._   He grinned and nodded a thank-you to Amos before running up the stairs.  With all the new people in town, not to mention the new gangs rising with mostly unknown motives, Luc hadn’t gotten any kickback from her when he said he wanted to extend their habit of Karina not going walking alone, especially when she was prettied up for her waitressing job; Amsterdam _did_ have a certain reputation about pretty women walking alone, after all, and while decent, Rina wasn’t exactly a great fighter. 

            He’d worried that she’d get defensive about it after the first few months, but instead, she’d gotten used to the company… and it made the rest of them breathe a little easier.  _Of course, she was probably only so weird about it in the first place because she was sneaking around…_   But no one needed to remember that, seriously.  Luc’s job overlapped with when her shift started, so usually Kay walked with her there, then Luc came by and picked up Renee once he was off.  Later, Luc would walk out to meet Rina at the end of the shift when the pub closed, while the baby was asleep at home. 

            Rina was standing with her back to ‘Liss, head down, while her friend was parting her hair into two even sides.  He couldn’t help but grin at that; when he had first come to Amsterdam, Sin’s hair had been bobbed, cut along her jaw line.  Now, apparently, it had gotten long enough to be put into a version of the low, over the shoulder pigtails Melissa preferred.  The baby was asleep on the pile of blankets they kept as a bed in the corner. 

            “Hey, handsome,” ‘Liss greeted cheerfully.  “Make sure you hurry back, you’ve got a house call in two hours.” 

            “Yeah, Amos told me.  I’m probably going to take him with, so you’ll be holding down the fort.” 

            “Sounds good,” she returned, grouping together one tail and having Rina hold it while she gathered the other to compare sizes.  “Nee just went down for her nap, so I’ll keep the monitor with me and get started on something Amos is into; he’s got some homework due tomorrow, so he’s probably going to ditch us and focus on that after a bit.” 

            “Alright.  Oh!”  He slung his knapsack off his shoulder and rifled through it for his newfound papers as the girls tied off Rina’s hair.  “Here, look.” 

            “Hm?”  The woman he considered to be a sister took them curiously, her eyes flicking over the words for a few moments before squealing in delight.  “Ooh, Kasey!” 

            “What?” Melissa looked bemused as she leaned over Rina’s shoulder to read.  After a moment, she grinned.  “Kasey von Koll, huh?”  Moving around her friend, swaying her hips a little more than she usually did, she walked up to him and interlocked her fingers behind his neck.  Eyes sparkling, she said, “Well, it’s nice to finally learn your name, good sir.” 

            Kay couldn’t help but grin broadly at her as he rested his hands on her hips; she knew _exactly_ who he was, but it didn’t matter to her at all.  _That’s never going to get old._  

            “Ooh, so this means you can _actually_ play at being my brother now,” Karina decided happily.  “Brother _-in-law_ , but it still counts.” 

            And Rina… He’d kept her safe through thick and thin despite their rocky start, and she seemed to have lost all her bitterness.  She was so _happy_ now, while last November she hadn’t seemed to even know the meaning of the word. 

            Maybe he hadn’t changed, and maybe nothing he did would really matter in the big picture… but that didn’t mean he wasn’t important _here_.  It was like he had told Hilde, what seemed like ages ago now.  He had changed Sin’s whole world; he was part of the glue that held the Devils together, and _Melissa_ … 

            Everything around him just _mattered_ more than it ever had.  Maybe it was because he knew what it was like to lose it, but he had promised himself that he wasn’t going to let that happen again, so if that was the case then it didn’t matter.  He felt more _free_ than he ever had, even though he was scared half out of his mind with paranoia… it was just- 

            “Kasey,” ‘Liss sing-songed, swaying side to side slightly, her arms still around his neck.  “Kasey…  _Don’t zone out on me Kay…_ ” 

            …And somehow, the sound of his new yet not new name on her lips in that sweet Dutch-English accent set his blood on fire.  He didn’t _need_ to be a different, better man, or make a difference in this world if… 

            _God_ , he loved it when she spoke to him in English. 

            “I’m here,” he returned in the deeper tone he’d been gaining all summer, ducking his head down to catch her lips with his, wrapping his arms tight around her and never wanting to let go.  She returned the gestures immediately, making a happy sort of noise in the back of her throat… 

            This was so much _more_ than it had ever been with Hilde, in so many ways.  He could never get tired of touching or even just being near her.  He thought he knew what that meant, but at the same time, he didn’t quite dare to hope he was right. 

            Karina started to laugh.  “Hey, come on you two, I need to get to work.” 

            Kasey smiled against Melissa’s mouth, pointedly turning away from Rina slightly and not stopping just yet, even though he could feel his girl’s own smile, and how she was shaking slightly from trying not to laugh.  Karina made an exasperated sort of noise and started down the stairs, calling down to complain good-naturedly about them to Amos.  They both started actually laughing, breaking up the kiss, so he decided to call it good and kissed one of her hands before giving a jaunty wave.  “I’ll be back,” he noted as he started for the stairs. 

            “You’d better be,” she returned happily, shaking her head a little as she watched him run after the blonde.  “Don’t forget about to hurry back for the house-call!” she yelled after him. 

            “I’ll be back fine!” he retorted, rushing out the door to see his picture-perfect sister smirking at him out on the drive, making like she was tapping her foot at him… before grinning raucously and starting to run. 

            He laughed again as he gave chase, hearing her breathless laughter trailing back to him, his brooding set aside again… because this was what having a family meant, and none of his worry mattered in the face of that. 

-

***

-

**November 3 rd 197 – Friday – Florence, Italy**

            Kail Jaynes couldn’t believe his luck.  He had doubted at first – after all, she was out in the open and plenty of kids looked alike… 

            But he’d seen her face clearly, and that definitely _was_ Mariemaia Barton-Khushrenada.  Her hair was dyed blonde, but he had a picture in his wallet, and he had long memorized her facial structure. 

            She looked… happy.  She was obviously healthy, well fed and in good quality clothes; her jeans were clean other than grass stains, and she had at least one tightly knit sweater on under a fur-lined coat she left hanging open.  Her shoes looked good too, and her face was clean and clear. 

            Someone was taking care of her.  She was alone right now, but there was no way she could provide so well for herself; she had help.  The fact that she was clearly trusted not to wander too far and definitely under no duress was also a good sign. 

            She was heading into a less populated area of town, which was good; she hadn’t noticed that he was following her yet, and once they were somewhere a little more secluded, he could take custody of her with little to no fuss.  Once she realized he had been sent by her father, after all, she ought to be happy to come along. 

            It was a few more minutes before she meandered down a side road that was completely deserted.  He followed at a slow amble, turning the corner… 

            She was several yards further than he had expected, from the speed she had been going at, but kids will be kids; she had probably run a few paces for the fun of it.  He followed at a slightly faster pace- 

            It wasn’t until she stopped and turned to look at him that he realized he had made a mistake.  Mariemaia was calm, without a glimmer of surprise or fear.  She had _known_ she was being followed, probably for some time now.  _She is every inch Treize’s daughter,_ he realized as she watched him impassively with his leader’s eyes. 

            That was his last thought, watching her watch him, before he felt a sharp pain explode in the back of his head and the world started to slide… before his vision went black. 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? I'd forgotten just how much I loved Kailì...


	33. Spiral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the end. Disaster strikes, Duo confesses, and everything looks to be doing just fine, right up until it isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grammar and increased introspection, primarily from Relena on this one.

**-**

_**Spiral** _

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**November 16 th 197 – Thursday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “What’s going on?”  Rina’s voice was hushed, her eyes anxious. 

            Kay felt another chill slide down his spine.  She was right; everyone walking the streets today were… different.  He had noticed it almost immediately, but was no closer to working out the source than he was ten minutes ago.  “I don’t know,” he whispered back, trying to watch everywhere at once.  No one looked particularly violent – the mood was more shocked, more despairing than that – but anger could rise quickly. 

            The part that scared him was that it was _universal_.  It seemed as though the two of them were the only ones out of the loop, which meant that whatever it was was big.  _Something_ had happened; this was the kind of fear he remembered from a city knowing the Alliance was on its way to attack.  More than anything he was just praying the problem wasn’t local.  Somewhere _other than here_ would be good… 

            For the first time, he was regretting that they had pawned their stolen tv. 

            “Let’s just get to the pub,” he muttered to her, picking up his pace.  They had vid screens there, and if the general mood was indicative of anything, the news would be on.  They had been heading out to pick up her check early this morning before he got some more work done at the shop, since he hadn’t worked for Tate last night, so they were already on their way there, or he would have turned back in the direction of the church and asked to watch the Father’s screen instead. 

            He did _not_ want to be on the streets today, something was _wrong_ … and having Rina with him only set him more on edge, because he couldn’t be at his best if he had to protect someone in the middle of it. 

            Karina was flushed by the time they got there but he didn’t comment, just kept a tight grip on her hand.  The pub was bustling, packed full, which was bizarre at this hour…  They were all watching the screens. 

            _“Investigators have determined that it most likely **was** an accident,”_ the reporter was saying.  _“However, that does not change the irrefutable fact…”_  

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium**

            “I want updates on the situation as fast as you can get them, understand?” Relena snapped at the man on the line.  “I don’t care what I’m doing, keep the numbers coming constant, and keep reevaluating off of any new data that comes in.  This takes priority over any other jobs you had going.” 

            “Yes, Ma’am,” the woman returned quickly.  “We’re already fully devoted on exactly that, Mr. Peacecraft’s orders.  We’ll keep you posted, Ma’am.” 

            “Thank-you,” she returned sincerely before hanging up.  Running a hand through her hair, she snatched a piece of toast up off the breakfast tray that had been brought up and took a few big bites, propriety forgotten.  She wasn’t going to get much chance to eat today, and she hadn’t done her make-up yet so a mess didn’t matter anyway.  She started to attack the sausage links a moment later. 

            She just hoped RLTT wrote back _soon_. 

            “Alright, conference is in an hour, you need to get dressed,” Jake announced, coming out of her bedroom with an armful of clothes.  “Keep eating, just gimmie a minute…”  He was laying out the clothes on the couch so she could see the assembled pants suit he’d put together for the day.  She watched as she took him for his word and continued to devour at a rate that she was mildly worried would make her sick. 

            “Good?” he asked, stepping back.  She nodded; it was appropriate and all matched just fine.  He nodded in return, spinning back on his heel and marching back into the bedroom.  “Alright, I’ll get your bag together.”  She was supposed to start touring again in a few days and had been planning on putting her bag together herself tomorrow, but with the new crisis she was probably leaving either later today or tomorrow for the Netherlands, and simply didn’t have time; she could start her tour after the immediate problems were taken care of, wherever she found herself. 

            Dorothy was out surveying the complexes again, and therefore she thankfully wasn’t there to laugh at Jake acting as her utter domestic… though really, it would have been Dorothy getting her things together for the meetings today, were she here.  As it was, Jake had been living in close enough quarters with her that he sometimes showed up with _new_ clothes for her – which was fortunate, considering how much of a disaster it would be to try to go shopping herself, with crowds the way they were – and he had yet to turn up with something she didn’t like, so she trusted his taste.  It was funny, looking back, at how confused she had been when he ran off to find her hair clips; that was still weird, but it had only been the tip of the iceberg. 

            She actually trusted his sense of style far more than she did Dorothy’s.  But really, Dorothy dressed like she belonged in Hollywood, so that wasn’t saying much. 

            Gulping down some tea, she ran a hand through her hair… it was mostly dry now, at least.  She’d showered and put her pajamas back on earlier, as she’d known she was going to need to go full formal later and she didn’t want to risk spoiling nice clothes with God only knew what beforehand.  She still needed to brush her teeth and do her make-up before she got dressed, and she needed to finish her breakfast and tea before that, but she could put on her socks, she supposed…  Sighing happily at the warmth the hot liquid put in her stomach, she rifled through the clothes on the couch that weren’t on hangers- 

            _Oh my God!_   “Jacob Miller, you did _not_ need to coordinate my underwear!”  She _almost_ appreciated it, because she probably would have done it herself, but it hadn’t immediately occurred to her that he had grabbed _everything_ for her. 

            His laugh was devious.  “Yell it a little louder!” he called back.  “I’m not sure they heard you in your brother’s suite.” 

            She rolled her eyes, shaking her head at that.  He had a point, but _seriously_ , he had _just_ -!  “You have to be the most effeminate soldier I’ve ever met,” she returned after a moment. 

            “Mm, blame Lu… or Treize.” 

            Relena snorted at that, taking another bite of her breakfast before asking, “Treize?  Really?” 

            “The man was a complete priss about some of the weirdest shit,” Jake noted, coming back to the door of her bedroom so they could talk properly.  “But that actually wasn’t what I meant.  I was his main go-between for Leia and Mariemaia for a couple years, and _Leia_ …”  He shook his head a little and started snickering as he turned to move back out of sight.  “And you can only take so many lectures on how to dress from a three-year-old before the pure hilarity of it makes you remember besides.” 

            Relena blinked in surprise, following him.  “You knew them?”  She certainly hadn’t gotten that impression when they had been trying to take Mariemaia from her grandfather, before the little girl disappeared.  He’d made some comment about how she looked like Treize’s mother, but…  “Why didn’t you ever mention that?” 

            “Eh,” the noise was a verbal shrug from within the closet.  “I haven’t seen them in… I guess it’s been something like seven years, now.  I was the only one Treize trusted enough for the job that was also young enough not to be under Dekim’s suspicion for being Marie’s father, but then he took the baby away from her anyhow, and she went back to school… so she reverted back to just sending pictures and letters, before they both vanished outright.  Marie was only five or six, the last time I saw her.” 

            “He didn’t trust Milliardo or Noin?” she asked curiously. 

            “Zechs, no, he always had his own agenda and Treize knew it more than anyone else; joining the Specials was purely a means to his own ends.  With Lu, he _did_ trust her, and sometimes she worked as a third party for it, but she was still in training; I had more time than her.”  He paused for a moment before asking, “Should I pack more than one pair of heels?” 

            “Probably two, unless all the formal wear you pick all match one pair,” she decided, moving back into the main of the suite to leave him to it.  Her computer chirped as new information came in, and she immediately went to read it. 

            The incident last night had been a complete and utter disaster. 

            As far as investigators could tell, the fire had been accidental, caused when a group of people snuck into one of the massive granary silos near Rotterdam in the middle of the night.  From the little surviving surveillance footage, they looked like they had been refugees; hopeful thieves, looking to steal their own supply of grain to sell and use instead of waiting for what they must have seen as a dubious promise of equal rations.  Considering the reputation her brother had wrought on his organization, Relena could not honestly blame the population’s distrust, though she was working hard to reverse it. 

            It wasn’t entirely clear what had happened from there beyond the fact that there were no traces of typical explosives.  Instead, it looked as though two things had happened.  First, the master gauge for the concentration of dust from the grain was faulty, and in fact had been higher than was safe, with no one the wiser for it – she had already used the Regime’s resources to send out engineers to all the neighboring and far silos to evaluate their gauges so that this could not happen again. 

            Second, the refugees had been confronted by the guards, and some kind of fight had ensued, which somehow had escalated to the point that the high concentration of pressurized grain dust had exploded, probably sparked by gunfire from one or both sides.  It was impossible to know the details of what had happened due to the damage, and both the would-be thieves and defenders had both been immediately incinerated in the resulting explosion, so the exact placing of blame was fuzzy. 

            The updates she had just demanded be immediately sent to her were the running estimations of how much could be salvaged and how much food was truly lost; she had to have those numbers before settling the details on what to _do_ about it.  The silo had been in the Netherlands; unfortunately, it had already been suggested a number of times that the rate of rationing only be adjusted in that area, but, while it might be the simplest solution, it both was not even vaguely right and would only condemn the country to economic depression and a large portion of the population to starvation. 

            She couldn’t believe how many heads of state in the rest of Europe wanted to do exactly that.  _Selfish, unfeeling pigs,_ she thought in annoyance, gulping down a few more swallows of tea.  The fact that, as a democratic zone, the Netherlands was already unpopular with their neighbors didn’t help; the legal and trade agreements that differed between the democrat zones and the rest of the Regime were practically nil, but it made them simultaneously more popular and detested by their neighbors for reasons that had little to do with practicality and everything with history and grudges. 

            She was going to have to spend _days_ straightening out their bickering like a group of bratty schoolchildren; it made her want to grimace.  _Well, that’s one thing that class presidency was good for,_ she couldn’t help but think sarcastically, downing the last of her tea.  _It helped me prep for Sanc, and it’ll help me more **now**._   Not exactly the part of her schooling that she would have thought would stick with her, at the time, but it had helped all the same.  _Between all these so-called cold-blooded leaders and **Milliardo** …_ 

            Ugh.  Milliardo.  _Milliardo_ wanted to increase security and put down further strictures on those not registered, or those living outside their home state.  While _slightly_ more logical, she wanted to glower at him for his purely military approach. 

            What _she_ wanted to know was why it wasn’t _obvious_ that they just needed to spread _all_ the grain more thinly while providing more base supplements through RLTT. 

            Shaking her head, she decided to wait on putting on her socks – the bathroom floor might still be wet – and went into the bathroom to finish getting ready.  She had a long day ahead of her, convincing men old enough to have children her age that they were being spineless simpletons. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            Duo rushed Karina inside once they reached the Den, extracting promises from her not to go back out today before racing back out into the cold morning weather and all the dangers with it.  He couldn’t stay inside…  God, he didn’t even want to stay in _Amsterdam_ … 

            As he started running, the fact that this was becoming a coping mechanism not lost on him; at least this time he wasn’t so far gone as to not track where he was going.  He needed to _move_ , to shake off the fear trying to cling to him, but there was no way in hell he could afford to not pay attention to his surroundings.  Not today. 

            It was like the day they had announced the plague had spread beyond its original two sectors; the order for full quarantine came two days later.  And after that… after that it had only been a matter of time before the violence started coming to a head.  People would mostly be too scared to try to start anything today.  The fighting would only come after the desperation had sunk in, if he was honest with himself, but plenty of people were desperate over other things already… 

            He was at the shop. 

            Unlocking the door, he let himself in and locked it behind him, shoving his hands into his hair as he leaned back against it. This was bad… this was so incredibly _bad_.  The food shortage had just gotten five times worse, and he knew politicians well enough to figure how much they were going to be affected, when the granary that had caught fire was right outside Rotterdam, maybe fifty kilometers away.  He had learned at a young age not to trust anyone in politics… though he could admit that originally that was probably more an extension of ‘Don’t trust anyone with money’ than anything he had heard of politicians doing.  He’d only learned the latter as he’d gotten older, but _damn_ had he learned it well.  Treize could run circles around him any day, confusing him by changing the entire political climate, and he was pretty sure by what he’d heard from Wufei that the guy could probably have kicked his ass in a suit too…  And Une and Zechs had both scared the shit out of him on more than a few levels. 

            _Who the fuck thinks blowing a colony out of the sky or dropping a battleship on the planet is **ever** a good idea?_   Even if initially they had only meant it as a bluff, it was still more than a little screwed up.  Quatre… Quatre had the excuse of the Zero System fucking with him, which Zechs wasn’t allowed because he’d already proven he was perfectly competent fighting and keeping his head with the System long before it had all come to a head at _Libra_.  Heero kept his head after initial exposure, which he couldn’t help but admire, and eventually Quatre had too, and _Zechs_ had kept his head better through the beginning stages of it than any of them, so trying to suggest he just lost it later when he’d obviously already figured out how to master the System…?  Bullshit, plain and simple, if that was even the excuse he was trying to use; he just avoided the subject altogether and cracked down with his new, ill-gotten power instead. 

            There was only one politician he had ever trusted… and that was Relena.  Sweet little idealistic, pacifist Relena, who had learned to play hardball sometime while he had been working out the meaning of family… and the only good thing he could say about what he had heard today was that he _knew_ Relena was going to be all over it the same way she used to be about pacifism.  She’d let that old boat sail once there was no way in hell it had a chance of happening anymore, and instead had taken a strong focus on humanities: the Militia, the amplifiers, the vitamin production, and individual program after program after _program_ on the local level around Europe.  When they’d had their tv still he’d always watched the news, and he could _see_ the effects of what she was doing every day… shit, the militia _alone_ was something he’d kiss her for, it was probably going to be the only thing that would keep this winter from being like the last two.  There were the food complexes she was building now, and she was about to go on tour again to focus more on local programs… 

            And he could hardly wait to see what else she had up her sleeve, because he _remembered_ the little princess… and he _knew_ she had yet to pull her big guns.  Little Miss Darlian-Peacecraft had only just started to get her feet wet when he knew she had it in her to dive headfirst… and she was definitely _much_ stronger than she had been two years ago. 

            He smiled a little, letting his arms fall to his sides and taking a deep breath.  Thinking about Relena calmed him down in the same sort of way that he remembered he’d always given Heero shit about, the way the guy’d just follow her lead on pure faith…  But now the more time that passed, the more he realized that Heero’s initial instincts were just _that_ good: that he’d been right about Relena all along.  Duo’d never minded the girl, before, and he’d liked her well enough, but…  Heero’d known somehow how much _power_ she had in her, that she was capable of pulling off the same sort of impossible crazy-ass shit that Heero was, just in a different field.  That was why those two had gotten on so well together, he figured – how they were somehow always on the same page despite her being the princess, the pacifist, him the colonies’ perfect soldier.  If anyone could pull off the impossible, it was _those two_ , and Relena was managing all this _without_ her old crush. 

            If anyone could pull them through this depression, it was going to be Relena… and he could hardly wait to see how she was going to work her magic this time. 

            He let out another deep breath, realizing he was probably okay to go home now… though he had some work to get done here, so maybe he would just do that instead.  Melissa would be getting off shift in less than half an hour, and she’d probably heard more than he had and could give him a better idea of how people were reacting. 

            …He’d never been more glad that the Militia worked in partners or larger groups.  Melissa could certainly hold her own, but… he was just glad that she would never have to.  He was all too familiar how much fun _that_ was. 

            _Maybe…_   No, it was a bad idea.  But maybe he could just… kinda… 

            He shook his head.  _No… better not._   Tempting fate was the _last_ thing he needed to do right now, with everyone so stirred up. 

-

***

-

**November 17 th 197 – Friday – Paris, France**

            “Alright,” Jake muttered softly enough that only she could hear.  “Just tell me when you want me to start knocking heads together.” 

            Relena smiled a little, glancing up and back to him slightly to grumble, “I’ll keep the offer in mind.”  She was careful to simply breathe it out between slightly parted teeth; it might be bad if someone managed to decipher what they were saying from a video later because she wasn’t as practiced as he at speaking without moving her lips.  Anyone would be able to tell she and her bodyguard had spoken to each other when she had obviously acknowledged him like this, but the words were lost. 

            “Maybe we should set up a code word for it so we don’t lose time once you decide you’re fed up,” he suggested dryly. 

            She looked away from him, focusing her eyes on the men down the conference table that were _still_ arguing like middle schoolers.  “You’re getting feisty,” she noted, staying careful of her lips’ movement. 

            “If you yelled that as the signal, people might get the wrong idea,” was his glib reply. 

            “I might be able to get away with saying the fight wasn’t my idea,” she argued mildly, before standing and leaning forward to rest her weight on her hands.  _Enough is enough._   “Gentlemen,” she called out in a low but clear, calm, _authoritative_ voice.  “If you’ve had your fun, could we please return to the situation at hand?”  It honestly boggled her mind that the representatives of France and Neo Germany _still_ went for each other’s throats as were at war only yesterday, instead of centuries back.  _Grudges can’t go on **that** long, can they?_   Well, they probably could… but in all likelihood, it was simply that their personalities clashed _that_ horribly. 

            Those involved had the grace to flush, though whether it was in embarrassment or anger for being called out by a seventeen-year-old was hard to say.  No one tried to call her out for her reprimand, which might have been because it was fully justified and they realized that maybe _they_ ought to have said something… 

            But it also might have to do with the fact that over half of them had served under Queen Peacecraft.  She had made it abundantly clear two years ago that she had no strings to be manipulated by, and a will of iron.  When she spoke, however much they might resent her age or power, they _listened_. 

            They likely remembered the abrupt shift of power to their supposed puppet queen, before she handed them all off to Treize on what would have looked like a whim.  And they were perfectly free to believe she had passed off that power because she had simply felt like it – though they were just as likely to think she had done it to go _join_ her brother, despite her actions having been the exact opposite.  More likely, their acquiescence today banked more on that seeming unity, solidified by the fact that today she _was_ Milliardo’s representative. 

            “I love it when you do that,” Jake muttered happily.  “It’s like when Lu gives over and bitchslaps someone, only you do ‘em all at once.  It’s just awesome.” 

            Ignoring his commentary even as she secretly glowed with amusement, she got right to the point.  “What I need from all of you is a beginning estimate on your native and refugee populations, as well as a more formal one later after the full work’s been done for your census.”  Far too much of this meeting had already been spent on pointless speculation and arguments, or exchanging insults and tempers.  Whether they felt cooperative or not, she was going to get the information she needed for Jake’s algorithms to run options and find a workable solution.  She was going to introduce them to the ideas she found humanely acceptable as well, but whatever they wanted was hardly relevant right now.  There would be time for negotiations after the numbers were crunched. 

            Arguments started again as her reasons for wanting the information were obvious, and they were all worried about being cheated.  _Of course,_ she thought in some annoyance, _their definition of cheated probably means not getting the exact sum they were promised before the granary fire._  

            Suppressing a sigh, she set about soothing their ruffled feathers; they would be easier to work with if they didn’t completely distrust her.  There was no way that they would _like_ what needed to be done – there were no winners, in this scenario – but she couldn’t help but think that she would have gotten a less hostile response if she were not working through her brother. 

            Unfortunately right now, as it had been since the end of the war, her dependence on him was unavoidable – there was no other access to the power she _needed_ in order to ease the pressure the planet was under.  She had come a long way from her decision to regain influence by any means necessary last December, working to eventually undermine her borderline demented brother, but it was still a long road yet.  Milliardo could _not_ stay in power any longer than was avoidable, but she still didn’t have the resources to wrest the wheel from him without dire consequences. 

            She tried not to think of how many suffered while she bided her time and gained his trust and command, building her own empire within the Regime, gaining more sway and control.  She was only going to get one chance: if she failed, Milliardo would never let her in close enough to try again, and all this time spent would be worth nothing.  RLTT would probably still keep her as a candidate, but her brother would severely limit her movement. 

            _Who would Jake side with?_ Relena found herself wondering, not for the first time.  She wanted to think he would stay by her, considering the remarks she heard him make about his old friend from time to time, especially when he was in a mood…  But just the same, it wasn’t a theory she was eager to test. 

            By the time the point was relevant, she hoped there would be no question in her mind. 

            For the moment, at least, Milliardo and her goals lined up well enough, and that made everything easier.  She had been slipping by him on points he regarded as having secondary importance these past months, but it was starting to get to where they would either butt heads or have to compromise – she was _not_ willing to settle for the tidbits of influence over certain departments that he was giving her now.  She needed to make a difference, and while she had been, the beginning of a shift in power needed to become both fact and evident to the public, _soon_.  She was not going to stand aside and let him ruin what work she had managed with his mangling – Milliardo was still very much Zechs, as Jake insisted on calling him, and very much a soldier, not a politician. 

            So today… today was fine, and they would work together as siblings ought to be able.  Tomorrow… 

            _Tomorrow, we will just have to see._  

-

***

-

**Prague, Czech Republic**

            Sally sighed, sitting back in her chair and rubbing her temples.  _Never let it be said that running a resistance group is simple,_ she thought tiredly.  Though, thinking back to the reports on her desk…   _Running a **good** one, at least._  

            She had accepted and taken up the post of leading this group because she was both the only one available with experience and because everyone else that might have had a clue were dead, missing, or emotional train wrecks.  She had a sharp mind – how else would she have made it through medical school? – and she had proven during the war that she both knew what she was doing and was good at it.  She usually didn’t plan attacks and hand out missions anymore, leaving that to her general’s discretion, but she did select objectives both for furthering their advance and maintaining their army; someone had to be sure they stayed fed, equipped, and hidden, after all. 

            She had long ago trained herself to spot patterns, originally for studying, linking together points of logic in the human body to make a diagnosis; the same frame of mind was useful in other fields as well, of course, which was one of the reasons they had been as successful as they had over the past two years.  However, she was definitely seeing a pattern in the rogue groups that did _not_ sit well in her stomach. 

            One of the main difficulties with fighting the Regime, especially right after _Libra_ , was that however _wrong_ the government was, a stable governing system was crucial, and the Regime was the only organization capable of fitting the bill once the ESUN had fallen.  Originally, all her efforts had focused on helping the refugees who had suddenly found they had prices on their heads, or limiting the control that Milliardo attempted to exert; she had kept him from gaining enough power to put the entire planet under martial law.  He was a necessary evil that she was working to keep in check while she built up enough resources, enough _power_ , to bring him down and not have what was left of the economy crash with him.  After almost two years, they were starting to get close.  Soon, they would be able to attack more openly and strike decisive blows instead of nibbling at his ankles. 

            Someone, however, was getting impatient. 

            It really wasn’t surprising, all things considered; it was really only natural that, when hurt, a person wanted to lash out and strike.  What actually worried her was that she had suddenly realized that the more destructive ‘random’ attacks, such as the one Hilde had been complaining about the other night, were _organized_ … which was potentially _very_ bad. 

            A handful of stupid people were all it took to bring the world down around your ears.  The last war had certainly proven _that_. 

            At the same time, while she knew this spelt out trouble, she had no idea what to do; she could see that there _was_ a pattern, but had no way to predict the next move on the chessboard.  It was situations like this where the Zero System – and someone who could _use_ the damn thing without attempting genocide – would come in handy.  Its predictive power was phenomenal, and surely it didn’t _need_ to base around combat.  She couldn’t help but think that changing it to other fields would only need some minor reprogramming by someone who understood the system well enough… 

            …She _really_ hoped Xutao had been right about Heero surviving. 

            As things stood, though, she couldn’t even fully differentiate the organized outside attacks from the truly random ones and isolate a motive from there, assuming it was even a _logical_ motive.  More than anything, it looked like they were just going to have to sit and wait it through and hope someone else had a better idea of what to do… and that bothered her more than she could possibly put words to. 

            Sitting forward again, the newspaper headline from yesterday caught her eye.  That… that just made her want to cry. 

-

***

-

**November 19 th 197 – Sunday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “Chaos?” 

            “It’s Kasey now, Father,” the teenager returned warmly as he closed the door behind him, coming forward and hugging the priest in greeting.  “Sorry I didn’t come earlier, but everything’s been a little crazy…  And with so many new people in town, and everyone on alert, I…” 

            Father Espen frowned.  He had been about to dismiss the apology, the boy’s timing was fine, but his hesitation was important.  “What’s wrong, son?”  Chaos – Kay, it was Kasey, now – started to chuckle weakly, gripping his shirt tightly, hiding his face in his shoulder. 

            _That_ worried him, and he held the boy back just as fiercely, giving the comfort he was obviously seeking.  In the year or more that he had known their American immigrant, he had never seen him so lost as this, even when he first arrived.  He had not thought he would stay with them long, then, he was so distant and distraught… but once he had he had settled, he had calmed.  Slowly he had begun to believe that his past life, whatever it was, was forgivable, and allowed himself to take pleasure in his existence… and then he and Miss Mehile had truly found each other and begun to heal each other’s wounds, somehow. 

            He was a man of faith, but also a practical man, and understood that not everyone could come to their answers simply through the narrow road the Church demanded.  Though he always encouraged that path, sometimes the Lord carved out a different way for them to walk.  He understood how Chaos thought himself too damaged to be worth the time of God, foolish as that thought was.  He knew Chaos to be a believer, for all that Sister Isabelle was skeptical; some days he seemed to believe in Him without a single doubt, and others he scorned the idea… but he did so with fear and despair in his eyes. 

            Perhaps the boy did not _want_ to believe, but he most certainly did… and he was ever frightened that, wonderful, giving child he truly was, he was not worthy of the Lord’s grace.  He thought he only deserved punishment, despite all the good he tried to bring about… despite how he was sure that whatever dark history Chaos had done, all of it must have been done with the wellbeing of others in his heart and the Lord in his shadow, protecting him. 

            “I didn’t want to come until after dark,” he muttered hoarsely after a moment, still into the shoulder of his shirt.  “There are so many new people in town, from all over.  What if…?”  

            The priest’s frown deepened.  The hints he had gleaned from Chaos’ history were few, but it _had_ only been in the past six months, now that he thought about it, that he had actually known him to wander in broad daylight; though he had dismissed that before as the boy only having the time to spare during the darker hours. 

            _Did he really only **ever** venture out at night in those early months?_   And now… 

            “You are afraid you will be recognized?” he asked quietly.  He had not realized the boy thought himself so… universal.  Either he was paranoid – which was actually true without needing more evidence, he knew – or this might be more serious than he thought, if Chaos had been well enough known to worry so after so long. 

            When his only response to the question was a harsh shudder Espen knew he had guessed correctly, but really…  There had been no questions about the boy since he had first shown up.  No one had recognized him in a year, and he had _grown_ so, his face changing and maturing as only a teenager’s could.  He spoke like a native, and if he dyed his hair a lighter color then no one would question that he _was_ Lucas von Koll’s younger brother, as his papers now claimed. 

            “Kay,” he began soothingly, rubbing small circles on the boy’s back, “I don’t think you have to worry about that.  You don’t even look like when I first found you in my church, and obviously we didn’t know you for who you once were then, let alone now…” 

            The boy’s laughter was harsh, and he was shaking, now.  “Won’t know it for sure ‘till the blade starts to fall, and then it’s too late, Father.”  He’d slipped back into English, and with a thick accent of some sort, but the priest had been raised with as much English as Dutch and had no difficulty following the words.  “I’ve been runnin’ from it all year, but it’s startin’ to look like I’ll never really get ’way after all…” 

            “Of course you can’t,” Espen scolded lightly, squeezing him tighter for a moment to soften the blow of his words.  “It is a part of who you are… denying it only puts you at war with yourself.”  He had wanted to say exactly that for so long, but it had never seemed as though the boy was ready for it.  If he was facing the fact now, though, it would be best to face his fears down.  He had seen in his eyes so many times now that he had wanted to talk about this but hadn’t quite had the strength to do so… that he was afraid of being abandoned if all his truths were known. 

            Chaos was a very careful boy, and normally Espen admired the maturity he could see in it, but sometimes his caution was simply foolish.  He did not understand where the line laid where he would always be accepted no matter his history, and exactly how _long_ ago he had crossed it. 

            “I…”  He started to pull away and Espen let him, though he still held gently to him and guided him into one of the chairs in front of his desk, taking the other for himself instead of going around to his usual seat.  He leaned forward, still visibly shaking, trying to gather his words.  “I can’t lose all this, Father…  Not again…” 

            “What makes you so convinced you will lose everything you have gained in Amsterdam?” he asked calmly, leaning forward himself and gripping one of the teenager’s hands in both of his.  “You have made a home for yourself here; you belong to every one of us as much as we to you, now.” 

            The boy’s sharp laugh was almost a keening noise this time; no tears had fallen yet, but he was surely nearing that point.  “’Cause everyone I love _dies_ , Father!  Anyone I get close to dies, that’s how it’s always been, ’s part of having the Devil’s own fucking luck…”  He brought his head up, but his eyes were squeezed shut, a faint wetness beginning to leak out.  “Heh… Professor G called me ‘Maxwell’s Demon’ when we first met, but I always thought it was worse ’n that.  I’m as good as a grim reaper, the god of death himself, for what happens ‘round me…” 

            Father Espen’s eyes widened as it clicked together…  _Maxwell…  God of death…_   He could remember the day he had met Chaos… 

 

-

_“When I was young, a church took me in as a war orphan.”_

_“You **are** young,” he had countered with a gentle sternness.  _

            The boy had shrugged a little uncomfortably, looking down.  “Older than I truly care to be,” he admitted.  “And my church is a long forgotten ruin, now.” 

-

 

            _Maxwell as in the Maxwell Church Tragedy?_ he realized, looking at the boy with new eyes.  _The only known survivor was the later gundam pilot…  Duo Maxwell._   The boy with the long braid and haunted eyes, the priest’s collar.  He remembered wondering what had hurt him so before dismissing the news from his mind… 

            _Oh, Chaos…_   Duo Maxwell. 

            He reached forward and drew the boy to him this time, pulling both of them to their knees on the floor between the two chairs.  “You have no reason to be ashamed, fighting for those who cannot defend themselves,” he assured him.  “The blame is not yours for the misfortunes that have found you…  And even if there were such a thing as a god of death, I could hardly believe he would take the form of such a caring child of God as yourself.  No…”  Chaos, Duo, certainly _had_ had the Lord walking with him during the war.  “If anything, you were doing the work of the angels in keeping us all from our graves as _Libra_ fell…  You stood when others were too afraid to do more than pray, and did His work in keeping Earth safe, and it is a shame that you have had to hide for all your bravery, but I am glad He sent you to us here, Duo…”  The name was odd on his tongue, but he had a feeling that maybe the boy needed to hear it, his true name, not one of those he had taken on as a mask. 

            He had been burdened for so long, believing himself to be so far at fault… the boy finally broke and began to sob… and the priest just held onto him, making soothing noises.  He had deserved to hear those words long ago… but he had been too lost to even know where to begin looking for what he needed.  God must have been guided him to them, to have somehow made a home here… and Father Espen was not one to turn aside any duty the Lord appointed him. 

            “You are home now, Duo…  You are finally safe home, don’t fear…  Only be yourself and serve the Lord as you _always have_ , and let His will pass…” 

-

***

-

**Treize’s hidden compound**

_-_

_Hey again,_

_That was some story you had there, so, you know me, I checked it out right away.  Couldn’t turn anything up though; sorry, man.  I know you had your hopes up, but hey, at least no harm done, right?  You’ll find the right girl eventually; this one up and vanished into the wind just like the last time you saw her, though.  Weird, huh?  Practically like some sort of superpower, lol.  If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was avoiding you and keeping somebody else company.  Maybe he’s the one helping her hide, whoever he is.  Keep trying, I guess, and I’ll tell you if I manage to see her again, of course.  I know you: you’ve got your heart set, ne?_

_Nothing too new happening here… same old grind, give or take a few surprises.  You catching the news lately?  That princess sure is moving around these days.  Got to hand it to her, I think pretty soon she might just be giving everyone else orders instead of taking any, even from her brother.  Hard to believe she’s the same hardheaded teenager as two years ago, with whatall she’s doing now._

_Hey, I gotta run, but make sure you watch out for yourself, alright?  People get mean when they’re scared, and they’ve got plenty reason to be now; there’s even rumors that more anti-Regime groups are starting to go active and stir up trouble, so don’t get yourself in trouble when I’m not there to cover your back, okay?  I think there might be something more serious going on than it looks like, even, and that’s not so cool, seeing how serious things are already.  Call it a hunch, and maybe I’m overreacting, but I just don’t like it.  Something’s… off, somewhere, you know?  I’m not really sure I can trust **anyone** right now, I’m really on edge…  I hope I’m wrong, but just be careful okay?  _

_Catch you later,_

_Váli_

_-_

 

            Treize sighed a little as he finished the latest missive, resting his face in one hand; Jaynes swore up and down that he was positive it was Mariemaia he had seen in Italy – and the fact that he had been attacked and left in an alley suggested he had been right on the mark – but whoever was protecting her was also doing a thorough job of hiding her. 

            She _was_ safe though, wherever she was… and the blonde hair was likely one of the reasons she hadn’t been spotted before now.  Her free movement along with the obvious well-being Jaynes reported suggested that she wasn’t with a group, or at least not one spanning more than a bare handful of individuals.  Her cooperation, with her easy deceit of innocence and key role in ambushing his man also suggested she was happy where she was – which, he had gathered from the men at Dekim’s base, she really hadn’t been on L3-X18999. 

            Despite being in a small group, however, she was obviously moving more than he had expected was possible before, if she had originally gone missing in Lithuania, only to appear in Italy and vanish without a trace again.  _That_ was definitely unusual… and suggested, even if Jaynes’ takedown hadn’t already given it away, that whoever she was with was highly skilled. 

            So she was healthy, happy, and decidedly safe with whoever her protector was, who was capable of taking down one of his soldiers without effort and removing her from the area she’d been sighted in immediately by both his own and Váli’s reckoning… but still decidedly out of his reach.  It was something, he supposed, but definitely not what he wanted, all the same. 

            He wished he knew the motives of her current caretaker, whoever it was. 

            As for Váli’s warning… that much was obvious.  His own sense of danger was heightened even locked away in a mountain as he was, and he had heard both from his other agents and ‘Adam’ that rebellious activity was on a sharp rise.  Unfortunately, there was little to do about it other than interfere with what they could, as Adam was doing, and he had already ordered his own to do so before he had heard from the free agent… and wait. 

            He wished Váli could have said something a little more enlightening… but that was the way of the world, really. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “So,” Duo muttered, trying to collect himself and stop being embarrassed.  “What’d you need to talk to me about?” Melissa had told him this morning that Amos had passed the message along yesterday.  He had been worried the Father might be annoyed already by the time delay, so he’d been more worked up than normal, and he had already been would tight for _days_ …  Luc was working a later and longer shift now, which was nice in that it left Duo picking Rina up from work instead of taking her, and taking care of the baby was almost therapeutic for Duo…  But he liked being able to talk to Luc too, and it seemed like he hadn’t for _weeks_ , even though honestly it had only been a few days that their schedules didn’t line up.  Luc was one of his biggest anchors these days, and he did _not_ like being separated from him. 

            He couldn’t let Luc _really_ be like Solo, couldn’t let him die too, somehow…  He had so much _more_ to lose this time…  He knew it was beyond irrational, but he couldn’t quite get past the thought all the same. 

            He sure as hell hadn’t meant to have a total breakdown. _Though…_   The Father had enough on his plate without him adding to it, but he couldn’t help but feel surprisingly _good_ for it.  Definitely _not_ because of the crying part, but hey, Father Espen _knew_ …  And, well, it was kinda embarrassing to be called a gift from _God_ , but it sure was a lot nicer than ‘terrorist’. 

            The priest, for his part, sighed heavily, his expression saying he was having a hard time working out how to put his words together.  _Uh… not good._   This had to be important, if he was hesitating like he was. 

            “With the recent events,” he began after a moment, “I’ve been asked to take on a few more children.” 

            Duo nodded; Espen had said he guessed as much as soon as the news of the coming food crisis came in a few weeks ago. 

            “What I did _not_ expect,” he went on to explain, “was for then to lower my cutoff age to fifteen in order to compensate.”  Meeting the other’s eyes solidly, he added, “And because Amos is employed now, I have been told to turn him loose sometime this month, even though he has six months left by the new law.” 

            _Oh.  Well, Shit._   Duo let out a sigh of his own.  That… was entirely manageable, Amos was almost always at the shop and had showered with the Devils’ guys for months, he and Nolan had made friends, so it wasn’t as if he was new, but… damn.  _Poor kid…_   He’d been living at the church since he was really little – he could hardly remember having a different home, and the state was just kicking him out? 

            That was… harsh.  It made his blood boil a bit, actually.  It wasn’t even _vaguely_ fair…  What if the kid hadn’t had a group to blend into already?  He would have just been fourteen and out on the street during _this_ hell of a winter… his damn birthday wasn’t until _May_. 

            “We’ve got room for him,” he assured the priest, and watched him relax in relief.  It was weird, in a way; he remembered the Father protesting Amos having any contact with the Devils on the whole beyond Duo and the few who visited regularly, and Duo had agreed wholeheartedly then.  When was it that everything had changed?  He supposed the Devils really weren’t a gang, now, not like they’d been when he first arrived… though if the newly forming coalitions didn’t calm the hell down, they might have to be again.  _The kids wouldn’t be a part of it though._   He knew that without a thought.  And now that Amos had inadvertently made decent friends with Melissa’s little brother and tentative acquaintances with the other Devils around the same age, it just… wasn’t a big deal. 

            That and the alternative wasn’t exactly doable. 

            “It won’t be any sort of problem, but that… that’s just cold.” 

            “Yes,” the Father agreed tiredly.  “It’s cruel beyond measure…  I still need to tell him.” 

            Duo grimaced; that was one speech he was glad he didn’t have to give.  It was just going to break the kid’s heart, having to leave. 

            “I was going to do it tomorrow,” the man continued.  “I was hoping you could be there to soften the blow, remind him that he’s not going to strangers.” 

            _Crap._   Thought too soon.  “Alright.”  The priest nodded thankfully, leaning back in his chair… then stared at him critically for a long moment, making his skin want to inch away.  “What?” 

            “Kasey,” he muttered, rolling the name over his tongue, as if tasting it.  “I wouldn’t worry about someone recognizing you.  Even when you first came to us, you didn’t look at all like the pictures they have of you.” 

            He blinked, not having expected that.  “Really?”  He still thought it was damned obvious. 

            “The braid was the only part of you that stood out,” he noted.  “You…”  He smiled a little.  “You’re very American, in that respect; you look as though you might belong to any homeland.”  His eyes going gently stern, he added, “And the collar, as well as the braid.”  The ex-pilot couldn’t help but blush at that, and the Father simply shook his head a little and moved on.  “All the film and video was taken while you were captured, and you always walk tall and proud, which is different from those shots; you don’t overtly act like you have anything to hide, so it’s not natural to question the idea.  You must be 5’9, 5’10 now, a full head or more taller, and you’ve gained some visible muscle.  Your face has changed… I want to say you’re eighteen or at least close to it, and your voice is fully matured now.”  He grimaced.  “As Melissa seems to tell the Sister every day.” 

            He laughed a little at that… his voice had _definitely_ evened out into a deep tenor, and Melissa was more than happy to compliment it to anyone who’d listen. 

            Shaking his head, the Father continued.  “Kay, your accent disappeared months ago, and honestly, the only reason passerby might have a passing thought that you were not originally from here is because your hair is so dark.  If you bleached it a shade of blonde, because I know you want to avoid brown, you would blend in completely.” 

            Duo frowned, pulling his ponytail over one shoulder to consider it.  “I don’t think I can get away with blonde,” he argued.  “My skin’s a little too tan to pull it off.”  Even in space, he had never gotten pale enough to pull off bleaching his hair and having it look natural. 

            “A dark blonde would be fine,” Espen assured him.  “Nothing like Karina, but not quite so brown as Valio’s; definitely blonde by anyone’s definition, but… ashy.”

            _Huh…_   He probably had a point, there…  And it was good to hear all the reasons why someone might not really see who he was.  “Thanks, Father,” he said genuinely, tossing his hair back over his shoulder and standing.  “You really helped me out today.”  _Even though I didn’t realize I needed it._   “When do you want me to come by tomorrow?” 

-

***

-

**November 21 st 197 – Tuesday – Sahara Desert**

            Robby clenched his jaw until it ached, holding the body close to him as he slowly walked back to his part of camp.  It was dark now, the moon high and casting its eerie light across the sand… and that suited him just fine. 

            _Stefan…_   His hands clenched around the cold flesh in his arms.  Stefan was _dead_.  He hadn’t been doing anything traitorous by the standard of rules they lived by here, just throwing his weight around with some newly released guys – testing what they thought, probably.  He had only pushed his influence a little harder than the strictest interpretation of the rules allowed, and Roshan had executed him on the spot. 

            _Bullshit._   Stefan was killed because he was one of Robby’s, and Roshan was only looking for reasons to take out his frustration with everything gone wrong on them in particular just because he didn’t like _Robby_. 

            He had been right in his suspicions once the news of the coming food crisis reached them, he _knew_ they were going to crack down harder, but _this_ … this was the fucking taboo laws all over again. 

            He screwed his eyes shut, trying to take a deep breath, though instead it hitched and he fought not to gasp.  Stefan was _dead_ …  “Damn it,” he whispered fiercely, feeling the weight in his arms, the remains of a man who had trusted him to keep him safe, that he had promised he would get _out_ of this hellish place…  No one he had gathered about him had died since they had finished purging the true fanatics out of their encampment at the end of July. 

            Was this the price of leadership?  That, even if he did everything he could and did well, he would always be forced to eat his words in the worst way possible?  This was an awful world, a terrible planet they had come from, however beautiful from afar.  Before February he had thought the desert was beautiful, in its own magnificent way…  

            Now, though, even after he escaped he suspected he would never be able to think of it without remembering the blood and violence, the fear and fury so thick in the air he could taste it, and he didn’t know he could ever scrub the blood, sweat, and grime out of his darkened skin with all the soap and hot water in the world. 

            “Robby?”  

            He swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes harder for a moment, not daring to waste the water – he didn’t care about losing face here, among friends – before looking up and meeting Nick’s gaze.  _Nick…_   Nick was a good kid forced into the cruel desert… something he wished he could say as much about himself without it tasting sour.  Nick could probably go back to his old life once they escaped.  Not Robby, though… 

            _…Not Stefan._  

            “See what you and the others can find to build a pyre,” he ordered Nick tonelessly, shifting his grip on the body; they were responsible for handling their own dead, and fire was the only way safe of disease that he knew, here in the sand. 

            “Is that…?”  Nick cut himself off, licking his lips, staring in horror.  “But… but _why_?” 

            “Because Roshan thinks he’s our new god,” the blonde snarled.  _Roshan…_   Roshan was one man he would happily kill with never a single thought of remorse.  **_Why_** _did it have to be **Roshan**?_ he demanded despairingly for what felt like the thousandth time.  He had had everyone else on that rank level eating out of the _palm of his hand_ , and they had all transferred to nearby encampments while _Roshan_ was left in charge here, when it was _Roshan_ who suspected he might be more clever than he appeared. 

            _At least he doesn’t know the truth,_ he thought resignedly, the numbness from being so close to an empty body for so long beginning to truly sink in.  He welcomed the sensation, however desolate; it was better than the grief right then, allowing him to actually think… even though he didn’t really want to think either.  He wanted to go hide and sleep, but he had to put together something resembling a funeral for Stefan and be bombarded with it all over again… 

            He sighed, moving forward to find their old spot that they had burned at before, far enough away and downwind enough that the smell shouldn’t last too long; Nick had already run off to make the beginning preparations.  As always, there was work to do; anything else, emotions included, would just have to wait.  He had survived the cages and the raids, the brutal contention between ranks, the constant suspicion, by changing his frame of mind enough to stave off any breakdowns; a single one in the past eight months could have likely ended in his demise.  It might be safe now, among friends in their own camp, to let it happen, but it would be bad for moral, and he couldn’t let the habit reform…  

            He needed to stay sharp and let his deep-ground instinct guide him, or he wouldn’t last long enough to keep his promises to his men.  And after they escaped… well, then it was just the beginning of a different hell.  It would better than here, to be sure – anywhere would be better than here – and he was far better equipped than he had once been, but… 

            He couldn’t decide if he wasn’t worried about that because it would be so much less compared to the desert, or because he had gotten so used to burying his hope and emotions that he wouldn’t know until new experiences forced them to slam back into himself; it was almost impossible to tell how much he was hiding from his own mind, anymore.  But he _would_ be free again, away from orders, even if his life would still be constrained… and it was such an intangible idea at this point that he couldn’t help but crave it, no matter what it might actually be like. 

Clearing his mind entirely, he went about what needed to be done for Stefan.  He could think about it once the others were all around him, when it would be impossible to ignore everything again. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            Luc shivered as he locked the door to the Den and pulled his coat off.  He really wanted to keep it on, but rules had to be followed if they were to do any good, and they had all agreed a long while back that the outermost coats – and all the muck that managed to get on them – needed to stay in the entryway.  Once he’d gotten his boots off as well, he wrapped his arms around himself and hurried through the empty, dimly lit den to the stairs, where he knew it would be warmer – both because the heat was set comfortably below and because in just a minute he could crawl into bed with Karina. 

            He didn’t like coming home this late, but with the up in violence the militia shifts had gone up too, and he was hardly going to turn down extra hours.  The grave shift paid better too, so he was going to try and stay on it for as long as he could; the more money each of them managed to pocket the better, just incase some sort of emergency happened, as they always seemed to… it was just the way life worked, really.  Every time you thought you’d gotten a handle on it, something went topsy-turvy and you had to figure out how to make up for it. 

            It was _much_ nicer downstairs, though it still looked like he was the only one up and about.  He thought about knocking on Kay and ‘Liss’s door for a minute before deciding that even they were probably asleep… and he really needed to just go to sleep, even if he hadn’t seen his friend in more than a week.  He sighed as he made his way to his own door.  _These hours just don’t match up good…_   It was nice because he got to take care of his baby in the afternoons, but his concept of time was completely shot, and it felt as though he hadn’t spent any quality time with _anyone_ in weeks… or days… 

            How long _had_ it been since he started graveyards anyway? 

            Coming into the bedroom quietly, he let his eyes adjust to the nightlight before walking too far.  Both his girls were asleep.  Sighing softly, he quickly stripped out of his uniform and yanked on the sweatpants and shirt he kept as pajamas.  When he crawled into bed next to her, Sin didn’t wake up, though on some level she did notice him enough to made a happy sort of noise in the back of her throat as he curled around her. 

            _Mm…  Some days,_ he decided, _I have **got** to be the luckiest bastard I know._

-

***

-

**November 23 rd 197 – Thursday – Heidelburg, Germany – Late morning**

            Bernard groaned in frustration as he tried to find a way to see around all the people, but it was just no use.  _No fair!_   He wanted to see the princess, but they were all in the way! 

            “You all suck!” he protested loudly, since he couldn’t think of anything else.  “I can’t see anything!” 

            Someone laughed a little bit, and Bernard turned to look, curious.  Maybe someone thought his yelling was cute or something and would give him a break – a lot of people got weird like that, when it came to kids.  The guy who was laughing was definitely a grown-up, but he probably hadn’t been one for long.  “What?” he demanded, making his pout obvious.  “Don’t laugh at me!  It’s just not fair, you’re all tall and stuff!” 

            The man just chuckled a little before crouching down and holding out a paper flower, one of those fold-up kinds he’d seen girls make, with a paper clip poked through the bottom to make a stem.  “My little sister’s sick, but she’d made this, and wanted me to come give it to the princess for her.  I don’t like crowds much though, and Relena stops for kids more than anyone.”  He twirled the flower by the wire.  “You could probably get close up with something like this to give away, so you’d be able to _really_ see her, and I’ve got stuff I need to get done today besides this.”  He looked up, thinking for a bit before adding, “I can put you up on my shoulders first if you want, so you can see which way is best to go.” 

            Bernard grinned, taking the flower by the wire; it was just paper, and now he had a good excuse to beg through on, while a grown-up who didn’t really care could keep his promise without working hard.  _Totally win-win!_   “Sure thing, Mister.” 

-

***

-

            “I don’t like parades,” Jake muttered worriedly.  “They make me nervous.” 

            “I think your paranoia’s been rubbing off on me,” Cassidy groused, shrugging his shoulders slightly.  “I’m just about as uncomfortable.” 

            “Good.” 

            “They’re good for morale,” Relena argued through her smile. 

            “Which _would_ be why we’re here complaining instead of hiding in the hotel suite where it’s warm,” Jake noted.  “That doesn’t make me like it, even if I agree that you need to do it.” 

            “Bitch and moan,” Jerome grumbled.  “If there’s nothing to help for it, shut up about it.” 

            “You’re all in a _great_ mood,” Lincoln commented lightly, making an effort to look cheerful even as his tone was annoyed and sarcastic.  “Where’s the bastard that’s been hiding the coffee from all you addicts today?  I’ll throttle him _for_ you.” 

            Jake snorted then garbled out a few syllables of completely nonsensical sounds in response, but he was grinning as he did it; he usually appreciated Lincoln’s sense of humor the most out of his boys.  And he wasn’t actually annoyed… just, as he said, nervous.  Her bodyguard didn’t like situations where he knew he couldn’t completely control the surrounding environment.  Even the weather annoyed him – he could be _such_ a colonial that way. 

            She shook her head a little, giving him a pointed look all the same while smiling warmly at the rest of her guard, before moving towards the edge of the cordoned off street.  “You’re impossible.”  She wasn’t entirely sure which of them the comment was directed at… mostly Jake, she supposed, but it applied to all four men.  She was rewarded by a couple snickers, but she didn’t look back to see who it was that had reacted, choosing instead to smile at a little boy pressed against the barriers, waving something white in his hand at her frantically.  The adults surrounding him were smiling a touch indulgently, but only at his antics; he couldn’t have belonged to any of them.  Moving closer to him she knew at least Jake must be right behind her, but she ignored him for the moment. 

            The child was flush from the cold and probably exertion too from fighting the crowd to get so close.  His hair was brown and wild-looking, his eyes a sort of green-brown, and she could tell by his clothes that he either was one of the city’s urchins or belonged to one of the refugee families.  _He certainly has enough energy, though,_ she decided with a smile, squatting down in front of him.  “Hello,” she greeted pleasantly. 

            The boy’s eyes became _huge_ as he beamed at her, his hand finally stopping its crazy motion as he thrust the object at her.  “I… I, uh…”  He was _bright_ red now, and his other hand was gripping the back of his head as he offered a more sheepish smile; the oldest he might be was nine.  He probably hadn’t been expecting any sort of personal attention, so she offered him an encouraging smile, leaning forward a little more to show he had her attention.  “Um…”  He stuttered for another moment before waving his hand just a little more at her.  “This is for you.” 

            Relena fought down the urge to giggle, and widened her smile with delight instead.  He was holding a paper folded up to look like a lily, with a paperclip poked through the end for a stem, which was what he had been brandishing it by.  “Thank-you, she murmured happily, inspiration striking as she took it and used the wire to position the thing in one of the buttonholes of her coat.  Her shirt was as white as the folded sheet, while the rest of her clothes were dark, so it even matched beautifully.  “It’s lovely.” 

            “Ooh, origami,” Jake exclaimed cheerfully as he knelt beside her. 

            The boy flushed again at their attention, looking proud of himself.  “My sister made it!” 

            Jake always smiled the brightest for kids.  In another moment he was unwinding his scarf; he left it hanging, then pulled off his officer’s hat and took off the beanie he was wearing underneath before replacing the more official headgear.  “Tell your sister how she liked it, huh?” he suggested, snugging the knit cap over the boy’s head as the child went still with surprise.  Lifting the scarf off the back of his neck, he proceeded to wrap it twice around the boy’s neck before settling back on his heels.  “And don’t forget to take care of yourself,” he admonished gently.  “If you keep your head and feet warm, the rest of you will stay warmer too, alright?” 

            The boy was staring at him in shock; Relena watched her friend wait for a response, but when he didn’t get one after a few moments – not even a change of expression – he added, “I’m Jake.”  _Good, make it more normal, break the ice a bit…_  Evidently, the child was unused to true kindness from strangers.  He likely measured the world entirely in just what he could get away with, much as she remembered Duo always seemed to, even when hiding in the upper class boarding schools where luxury was an expected standard.  The situation was simply too bizarre for him to react properly. 

            At the introduction, however, the boy nodded a little, turning his gaze instead on his new scarf as he fingered it, entirely enraptured.  After a moment, the uncertainty left his face and was instead replaced with delight as he grabbed the material with both hands and rubbed it against his cheek. 

            Relena bit back another smile; he probably had never felt chenille before, and the heavy, silky warm knit was likely a novelty all by itself.  She had given the accessory to Jake not long after his birthday, but she wasn’t offended at the easy way he had given it away; that was simply the way her bodyguard was.  He would happily empty out everything in his pockets if he thought it might help a child, and the boy obviously could use the extra layer.  _I’ll pick up something else for him later._   Presents weren’t restricted to birthdays and holidays, though Christmas was close too, she supposed. 

            “Thank-you,” the boy finally said, his eyes both glistening and beyond happy, now.  “I’m…”  He licked his lips.  “My name’s Bernard.”  His hands were fisted deep in the blue material hanging down his front as he repeated an even more heartfelt, “Thank-you.” 

            “Thank- _you_ , Bernard,” Relena insisted, reaching over and tucking aside the fringe of hair almost completely covering one of his eyes – it had gotten stuck there when her bodyguard tugged the beanie onto the boy’s head.  Straightening the origami flower, she added, “I like it very much; it means more than you think.”  Gifts and tokens like the flower always did.  She stood, brushing herself off and ignoring the cameras flashing around her as she had been for the past hour.  “Try to stay warm, alright?”  She had long gotten used to the press following her every move, and she certainly didn’t care if they wanted to photograph her doing something good. 

            Giving him a little wave, she moved back towards the center of the parade, Jake only a few steps behind her.  Apparently still in a pissy mood – probably in part because it was only now occurring to him that he was going to be cold for the rest of the parade without a scarf – he muttered, “I think I remembered why I avoided such public jobs before.”  When she let out an exasperated sort of sigh he argued, “How can you not be _blind_ by now?  I _hate_ constantly seeing spots…” 

            She stifled a giggle at that.  _Okay, maybe he has a point, there._   The camera flashes had always been obnoxious, but really, she had gotten used to them by the time she was fourteen.  _Still…_   “Baby,” she muttered affectionately through her smile.  She was getting better and better at, ah, ‘public speaking’ like this. 

            He only snorted in response and did up the buttons high on his collar that he usually left loose, obviously annoyed but finally realizing it _wasn’t_ worth the effort of complaining – or at least realizing that much more and Relena would cease to be amused by it.  Normally she didn’t mind, but today just…  She was so _tired_ today. 

            She’d been working practically all hours of the day and night for the past six weeks trying to organize relief and keep the European infrastructure from caving in on itself.  With word of the poor crop turnout that had been hard enough already; excellent support or no, getting the hydroponics complexes up took more effort than it had any right.  She had more or less had it under control, but then this past week, with the granary explosion and the new tour on top of the rest… it was a _nightmare_.  She hadn’t slept for more than four hours a night since the start of the new crisis, and catnapping in the car wasn’t catching her up well enough.  She didn’t want to admit it, but… 

            _I need a break._   Not much of one, just…  A day or so, where she didn’t have to do anything.  One night, even; just one night of solid sleep might just… make a world of difference.  _Just enough to get my mind back._   It just felt like it had been one thing piled on top of another lately. 

            Sighing inwardly, she resolved to ask Jake about it once they weren’t on _video_ somewhere, incase she got emotional when she admitted she was hitting her limits.  _I just… want to **sleep**.  For eight hours straight; ideally in familiar surroundings._   She didn’t think the poor sleep was because of the sound coming through the walls or windows – though the crappy mattresses at the last few hotels _were_ suspect – but either way, she wanted _her_ bed with a fierceness she wouldn’t have believed even just a month ago. 

            _The question is: can the world **handle** me taking a break?  Or does it need to wait?_   She could probably hold out another week or two… 

            But as it stood, there were so many fact and variables to juggle just to make the _decision_ that she wasn’t sure where to start.  Milliardo had proven repeatedly that she couldn’t trust him to manage any of this appropriately, which meant she couldn’t count on his support in her ventures; so once again it all fell to _her_.  And while normally she was proud of how indispensable and needed she was, how integral her work was to bringing prosperity back to Earth, it was nerve-wracking, and _exhausting_ , and-

            “Lena?” Jake asked quietly, tone solemn. 

            _…He always catches my mood, even when I’m pointedly not **showing** it, doesn’t he?_   That made her smile a little more genuine.  The amount of sheer _attention_ the man showered on his friends was stunning, especially paired with his remarkable eye for detail.  He could read her like a book… 

            _But I can read him too,_ she decided smugly.  _At least, most of the time I can, now._   He was grumbling so much today because he’d hardly been getting any more sleep than her…  But while she was growing worried she might collapse before too much longer, she knew he was still in peak form.  _Not that he couldn’t use a break too._   At this rate, it would only be a few more days before she contrived with the boys to talk David into working a double while they locked the Jake in a room somewhere to sleep it off. 

            _…God help me, that sounds like an excellent idea.  I **am** tired._  

            “Later,” she muttered for his ears alone, glad that he had caught on; it saved her having to find a way to broach the subject later, once they were in private.  _He’ll probably be able to sort out the pros and cons within half an hour,_ she mused.  _Milliardo might never be the brother I needed, but at least I have good friends._   Noin had told her that Zechs was her brother and she had stopped _everything_ and done all she could to be family to him – it wasn’t her fault that he’d never reached back with anything but condescension. 

            It made her heart _ache_.  In so many ways, her choices would be so easier over the next few years if he never acknowledged her, but at the same time…  _What if I could just… win him over?  Does it have to be a fight?  If I can keep going like this, keep growing and proving myself, **will** he step down?  Then I wouldn’t have to draw so many lines, none of us would have to **choose** our loyalties, and we can simply… live.  Move on, and learn from our mistakes._  

            _…But Noin never stopped waiting.  My father, **both** of my fathers only ever **waited** for peace, necks bared for the killing blow – and what was the point?  Passivity is reactionary; if no one will take the next step and **make** a solution, then you contribute to the problem.  If you’re not willing to change, then you’ve given up before you ever started.  In the end, no matter what route or tactic I take, it boils down the same: _

_I’m the only one that I can trust to see this through._  

            Fingering the origami flower briefly, she smiled again, looking down briefly at its clean lines, then back to the wildly cheering crowd; they were almost to the end of their parade track now.  _They **need** me to carry us through this catastrophe and into the new era._   Exactly what the shape of that new age would take, she couldn’t say – but they all deserved to live and see it. 

            _What does blood matter anyway?  Maybe it’s an opportunity for family, but it’s hardly the definition – my parents loved me._   The Darlians were her personal proof, after all, that you could _choose_ your family.  Even without that, though, she had friends better than anything she had ever gotten from either of her families despite how much she still missed her parents.  Maybe her father had always kept her at arms’ length and maybe Milliardo would never live up to his promises, but Noin had been the big sister she desperately _needed_ , and Dorothy was the younger one who was smart enough to outfox them all – though only if she was in the mood.  David was that jovial uncle with the wild stories who could stand through a hurricane, and Jake…  The more the learned about Jake, the more layers she pulled back, the more she felt connected to him on a level she couldn’t really explain. 

            _No matter what comes next,_ she decided, _I’m not alone.  I’m not just a little girl running on instinct and whimsy anymore – I have a support network, and **no one can stop me** this time._  

            Jake’s shadow passed over her as he moved closer, and she looked over her shoulder to smile at him, feeling empowered.  _We’ll do it.  Just watch._  

-

***

-

            It was a damn small squad… which meant the lead was either stupid or incredibly versatile and intelligent.  That and, while Duo was fairly confident that this _was_ all of her current guard – no one else sneaking around back alleys or the crowds trying to look like everyone else – that didn’t mean there weren’t more off duty, so the boys always stayed fresh. 

            One glanced sharply at him, and he blinked, calling up a mildly bewildered expression before offering a shaky grin and small wave.  _Ooh, nice._   Small squad, but _nicely_ trained – they knew how to smell out attention… or whatever they officially called it in spy school.  The guy smiled back a little before his attention shifted away, though his eyes lit up as he looked back to the princess and he laughed, looking mildly bewildered.  Curious, Duo looked back to Relena, who had a satisfied look on her face as she pointedly only smiled… and the guy laughed harder, though he was trying to stifle it. 

            _Holy shit._   He grinned as he walked a ways away, running _that_ over and over again in his mind.  It _looked_ like little Miss Peacecraft had learned to talk without moving her lips, which was so much more… _devious_ than he remembered her being.  That was interesting enough to warn him off all by itself, even if her lead guard _didn’t_ put his hackles up.  The crew was damn well trained, and she was familiar with them; changes would be immediately noticed, so that was good.  And she had to have learned that little parlor trick of hers from someone. 

            Sitting down on a park bench near the hotel they were about to head into, he reviewed the main reason he had decided to keep his distance – what had made him completely drop his half-thought idea to maybe visit her in person.  Her lead guard, Miller… something about him put him on edge, and he was still trying to figure out exactly _what_ ; he’d have left as soon as he made sure his note got passed along, otherwise. 

            It was crazy, really.  He wasn’t interested in risking anything…  But something about just being near Relena got people willing to just _do_ stuff for her.  _No wonder she drove Heero so mad,_ he decided, leaning back.  _I’m happy as a clam and still want to do something stupid just so she can see, and Heero…  Heero was a damn basketcase._   He cocked his head to one side, _liking_ the fact that thinking about his one-time comrade wasn’t setting his guts twisting the way it would have just a week ago.  _He sure as hell knew how to get a job done,_ he decided after a moment.  _But he was still damn mental._  

            Then again, they probably all had to be a little nuts to agree to pilot an eight ton war machine against the entirety of the damn Earth-Sphere Alliance and Order of the Zodiac.  And _he_ was the one who’d broken Crazy out of a _hospital_ , so really, he didn’t exactly have much room to talk. 

            Standing up, he approached from roughly the same area he was in before; if he came from a different direction, he might get mistaken for a danger instead of the overeager fanboy he was going for.  They had convinced the press to leave her be entirely just a bit ago, then after that there really weren’t too many people who’d worked out exactly what back alleys the princess had been routed through after her publicity stunt today – Miller knew the area pretty well, and seemed confident that there would be no problems. 

            _The question, then, is whether he made **sure** he wouldn’t run into trouble, or if he’s overconfident._   They were in a sort of relative privacy right now – not hidden, recognizable to anyone looking hard, but also easy to overlook entirely.  Relena had put on a different coat and a hat, and the men no longer looked military, shedding their outer layer and revealing different colored various sweaters that looked completely normal.  Relena was obviously more relaxed than she had been earlier under the masses’ scrutiny, and Miller stood close enough to her to pass for an overprotective boyfriend, casually chewing a piece of gum and grinning as they all talked.  _Well **done** …_  Completely laid back vibe, all, ‘Nothing unusual to notice here, a group of friends and one of them’s girl, nothing to see…’ 

            It was practically masterful, and definitely practiced.  _They’ve done this before._  

            This time it was Miller who met his eyes with an easy smile, and though his eyes were amused, the message was… pointed.  When Duo blinked, surprised in spite of himself, the man shifted his weight slightly… and everyone else, including the princess, slid into some kind of formation. 

            _Aw, shit._  

            He held his hands up in a surrender, looking down and away as he started to back up before turning and jogging the other way.  There was no way he could claim to not have noticed the dismissal this time, and he wasn’t eager to find out if his face had changed enough to survive true scrutiny, no matter what the Father said. 

            Besides, he was sure now that he had been right in not trying to get close.  Miller _definitely_ had a separate night guard, and he wouldn’t be surprised if there were one or two guys good enough at espionage in that crowd that he really _might_ have passed them over as normal.  The few bits and pieces he’d been able to put together about the man’s history suggested ability, and he’d just had something thrown in his face that would make him keep his hands off even if it had been his life’s _goal_ to talk to the princess again. 

            That had been _his_ smile.  _His_ smile, that made grown men back down and want to run immediately.  _His_ sort of ‘run now before I remembered why I thought you were interesting enough to play with’ grin, and the ‘play with’ was meant in the same way a cat might play with a catnip covered mouse.  He’d been told it wasn’t exactly fun to be held under that, and _shit_ , they hadn’t been kidding. 

            He had a pretty good idea of what kind of shit had to happen to you for you to earn that sort of intensity, and while he was familiar enough with his own demons, he had no interest in meeting someone else’s. 

            _Besides,_ he thought grimly as he started running outright, taking a few odd turns and shortcuts incase they decided to follow him after all.  _I figured out what I was after.  Nobody’s going to get any closer to Little Lena than they would if Heero was in charge.  She’s safe as she can be._   Well, probably, anyway – Heero _had_ tried to kill her… how many times, exactly?  **_Not_** _the point._   He didn’t think this guy was really much like Heero, he reminded him _way_ too much of himself… which, honestly, was a whole lot creepier. 

            If the world had a chance of turning out to be a decent place again, though… Relena was definitely going to be able to pull it off, with that guy backing her.  He had the feeling it might be a good idea to kinda… not go near them for at least six months.   _Or a year._   He might still be recognized by then for the lookie stunt he’d just done, and he did _not_ want to piss that guy off. 

            His bus back to Amsterdam would be coming in soon; he’d had more than enough excitement for the day. 

-

***

-

            Jake rolled his eyes as the kid bolted like a bunny, relaxing, which let the boys know they could too… and smirked. 

            Training to follow orders based on body language was the most effective style he had ever come across. 

            Relena looked mildly amused and ever so slightly mortified.  “Oh…  You didn’t have to scare him that bad, Jake.” 

            “That was the second time he came snooping,” Jake argued.  “If he had the nerve to try twice, I wanted to be sure he knew what we thought of a third go.”  Honestly, all he could have wanted was an autograph or to shake Relena’s hand or something, but they had escaped the public eye for a _reason_. 

            She rolled her eyes but accepted his opinion, instead returning to the topic from before he had noticed the brat wasn’t going away.  “So?”  

            He shrugged a little, turning the idea over in his mind again, looking for holes.  Her request had surprised him, but she was far from out of bounds; given the pure insanity of the past week, it made sense.  As an added bonus, they’d gotten an e-mail from Dorothy this morning saying that she was back in Brussels for a few days; as much as they bickered, the two definitely missed each other.  Their friendship had the kind of positive feedback loop they both _needed_ to stay on an even keel – it was one of the reasons they worked so well together. 

            _We’re not far…_   Security wasn’t much of a fear with the element of surprise going for them; he could keep it so that new information of her whereabouts wouldn’t be leaked to the public until she was already safe and sound back in the compound.  _It wouldn’t be too hard to minimize it down so no one knew until the next morning._   The next two days of the tour were supposed to take place in Switzerland and Austria, but so long as they sent notice and paid for the full deposits on hotels that had been booked – and rebooked under the same deal – it should be fine.  Meetings could be rearranged.  _It might even be feasible to circulate a rumor that she was **called** back – something official needing her attention, instead of a chance to breathe out of the public eye._  

            Truthfully, given her brother’s power and tempestuous position of authority – at least in the eyes of many who were against him, which was, to note, a rather large population of the world – the nastier version of those rumors were likely to start themselves without any help at all.  _That could work in our favor._  

            Besides, it was good that she felt okay to tell him this.  All too many people didn’t learn to gauge their limits until they’d overshot them – if she could identify the signs now, it would only help her down the road.  Relena might be inexperienced, but she learned _blessedly_ fast.  She, unlike Zechs, had a decent sense of her limits and the fact that she already had a system of checks in place was something of a relief.  It was _nice_ to work with someone who knew when she needed to take a step back and shake it off before entirely new issues rose up. 

            “We could swing it around for tonight,” he decided, looking back to her decisively.  “I’m not sure about more than a day, but if that’s what you want we can get home before nightfall.” 

-

***

-

**L1**

            “I guess it’s a good thing we decided to come here when we did,” Marie decided, focusing on her feet as she walked.  “It’s probably a lot harder to get off the planet now than it was a couple weeks ago.”  Odin made an agreeing sort of noise from behind her.  After she had been followed they had decided, especially with all they were hearing about the food crisis and the weather growing colder, that they could move their search to the colonies for a while; it wasn’t like they had any real idea where her mother really was, so so long as they checked off where they had already been, it didn’t matter what order they traveled around to places in.  _It’s nice to be up here where it’s warmer, though, that’s for sure…_

            She wondered if maybe her mom had had the same idea; maybe they’d find her sooner after all. 

            Thinking another minute, she finally said what had been racing through her head for a couple weeks now.  She still couldn’t come up with anything good.  “Why was he alone, though?  And why wait until we were alone to confront me?”  She knew that it had never become public knowledge that she was involved in her grandfather’s attempted revolt – probably because she had gone missing and that looked bad – but finding her would make the Regime look good, right?  Or, like…  It wasn’t like he would have even needed to give a public explanation in a crowd: he could’ve just flashed his badge and said he was taking her into custody or something.  _Unless maybe he didn’t have one…?_   In which case, he _was_ he?

            “I don’t know,” her brother returned after a moment, keeping a steady pace behind her.  “Try not to look down; your balance is good enough that you can do this without thinking, once you stop being afraid.” 

            “I’m not afraid,” she argued as she looked up, focusing down the wall they were walking on.  They were in one of the nicer neighborhoods in the area, one with solid block walls, and were walking along the tops.  There was a park on one side, and people’s back yards on the other.  It really wasn’t that narrow of a path, but they were at least ten feet up…  “I’m just a little nervous is all,” she declared. 

            He grunted as if to say ‘same difference’ but she decided not to respond to that.  She _was_ balanced fine, and he’d made her discover just about every way she could fall and not hurt herself the last two months, to the point where, just like he’d wanted, it was an automatic reaction to break her falls…  So even if she managed to fall from up here she doubted there’d be any problems. 

            But the idea still made her stomach drop.  It didn’t help that she had the sinking feeling that once she admitted she was just as good at walking up here as anything else?  The next thing he’d try was pushing her off. 

            After a minute, he went back to her question.  “I don’t think he was a member of the Regime.  I’m not sure who else would know of your involvement in Dekim’s plot, but his actions don’t match up.”  He paused before admitting, “And when I checked their databases, I couldn’t find anything about the incident, which means either it wasn’t reported, or they don’t know about it.  Either way, it says another group was involved.” 

            Marie was proud of herself for not stumbling when she heard that.  “You hacked their databases?” 

            “That was why I wanted to stop at that café,” he admitted.  “If the action was tracked, I didn’t want to risk our laptop’s MAC address; they’ve seen through my rerouting of addresses before.”  She swore she could _hear_ him frowning.  “Though whoever they have on security now isn’t the same watchdog as before.  It was… much easier to do than last year.” 

            “Can you teach me all that?” she asked excitedly.  He was talking about it like it was the easiest thing in the world, and she knew that was how he was getting their money too, more or less.  _Odin knows some of the coolest stuff._  

            He seemed almost surprised, and started walking faster as he considered; not really thinking about it, since he was behind her, she picked up the pace as well, matching him, and even risking a glance over her shoulder to see the thoughtful look on his face.  “If you want to,” he decided eventually.  “I’m not sure where we would start, though.” 

            She frowned.  “We need to be someplace special to do it?” 

            The noise he made was vaguely amused.  “No… I just don’t really remember learning _how_ to do it,” he explained.  “I just… know it.” 

            “Oh.”  She could feel her face heating up at her mistake.  “Well, you can just explain while I watch and try it, right?” 

            “Mm,” he returned positively.  “It just might take some time.”  He made another thinking noise and she waited for him to figure out what he wanted to say without slowing…  

            ...only to have her feet swept out from under her, his hand pushing her unceremoniously in the direction of the park. 

            Her heart leapt into her throat but she was reacting before she really thought about it, curling into a ball and rolling as soon as her shoulder touched the ground… and realized as she kept rolling that she hadn’t taken _any_ of the impact on her body at all, despite the extra speed from the fall.  Springing back up to her feet, she turned to glare at him because that was _not funny_ … to see him squatting down on the wall – which was actually more like six feet tall now, she realized – elbows resting on his knees, smiling one of those rare, full-fledged smiles for her.  “Good; perfect, even,” he announced.  “And on your first try, too.” 

            _...Okay, crap, that was totally amazing._   A little mean, maybe, but she didn’t have any _room_ to be annoyed at him with how cool that had been.  She couldn’t help but grin back at him as he launched himself towards her and did his own tumble.  _If I looked even half as awesome as that, I totally need to do it again._  

            “With heights,” he explained seriously, gesturing back towards the wall, “you want to make sure you’re moving forward as much as you are down.  It’s easier to control the inertia that way and not absorb the force; that’s why I pushed you.  You can land straight down if you have to, lowering the power you land at with a few flips, but it’s hard on the knees.” 

            She nodded a little, absorbing what he’d said as she looked back at the wall, her heart starting to race a little more as she wished she knew how to get back up so she could do it again.  It had been kinda scary, but…  _Oh **man** , that was fun!_ 

            He noticed her attention and he tilted his head in confusion for a moment, looking back at the wall himself for a moment before it clicked.  “Aa.”  Gesturing for her to follow, he walked back over… and started to explain again.  Practically skipping, she followed, listening closely.  Odin didn’t like explaining something more than once. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “Okay, just give us a few days,” Melissa returned warmly.  “I’m sorry, normally I’d be able to give you a better estimate, but this is delicate enough that I’d rather my partner do the work; he has more experience with circuitry, and he had to take care of a few things out of town.  He should be back tonight, but he probably won’t be able to start work on it until tomorrow.  If you give us a number to reach you at, or come by tomorrow around noon, Kasey should be able to give you all of the details.”  They had gotten a little cell phone with a terrible minutes plan and voicemail for their shop, and used it sparingly; no one else was terribly interested in using up their minutes either, with the economy as it was, so it worked pretty decently.  Most people just came in in person anyhow, especially since they were apparently becoming rated as doing some of the fastest as well as the least pricey work in town.  And they had attracted attention in the first place, of course, because of Kay’s top notch handiwork. 

            Her customer assured her that he would do that, giving her a phone number for reference but saying that he would be by tomorrow afternoon and to not bother calling unless he didn’t show up by six.  She nodded easily and finished out the work-slip with the number, waving as her customer exited, then stood up to move the computer off the desk so she could carry it upstairs.  Kay wouldn’t want to work on some kind of delicate electronics in the same spot she’d been working on a car all day – that was just asking for trouble, with all the axle grease and fluids she’d managed to get everywhere. 

            She sighed, thinking about how much she was going to have to scrub and clean once she got a chance.  They were only getting paid only to do the bare minimum to keep the poor thing running, not to fix some of the problems that had it leaking all over the place until she realized and moved it back out onto the street.  She was sorely tempted to do it anyway just to save herself more mess and say it was on the house – maybe she’d get lucky and the grouch who brought it in would recommend them to someone else – but she didn’t think _anything_ would make him happy about the junk heap.  And no wonder, with how far gone the poor engine was… 

            Coming back down the stairs, she glanced at the clock.  _Mm, Amos should be here soon._   School had just let out, and since the state had forced him out of the church two days ago, he had started to come straight to the shop from his classes to do some homework at the desk, putting it aside at the odd customer coming in after the normal work hours.  He was still obviously upset, and had taken even more strongly to Kay, but he was making the most of it.  When they had all rearranged their rooms when going completely underground back in the Den, Tiede had won out on a gamble with dice for one of the larger rooms to himself, and had generously offered to share with the newcomer, who was only about a year and a half younger than him.  He should finish meshing in soon enough; though some of the older boys’ coarse humor certainly had him blushing. 

            Kay, meanwhile, had gone on some sort of trip to southern Germany and wouldn’t be back at the Den until late.  She wasn’t planning on waiting up for him if he wasn’t home by midnight, though; she had a full day tomorrow.  She certainly wasn’t going to begrudge him the new energy he’d gained since finally telling the Father his identity, but not everyone could play hookie for two days to go try to see the princess in an area that couldn’t link him to his hometown, if push came to shove.  Chances were that Relena Peacecraft would be in the Netherlands quite a bit in the coming year, but she was pretty sure that he’d be refusing to even go outdoors in their own neighborhood when that happened.  He had this whole muttered rant she’d only heard half of about chances and risks and jinxing… 

            Melissa shook her head a little, smiling a bit as she considered her boyfriend’s quirks.  He was paranoid as hell sometimes, but really, she could hardly begrudge it; half the time he was right, after all.  That and she knew enough about the war to realize that paranoia had to have saved him more than once or twice, so it was well earned too.  Besides, she kinda liked the incredibly serious side he could show for it… his caution was annoying sometimes, but the extreme thoughtfulness was a nice contrast to his otherwise devil may care attitude.  She’d take the paranoid part of him over the serious, bloody reaper any day, however hard being near the latter had made her blood pump.  Danger had a certain allure sometimes, but she’d been raised to know better. 

            Sighing, she started to roll up her sleeves, thinking to have another look under that car.  Depending on exactly _what_ was losing fluid and how, it might be easy enough to fix.  Once Amos got in she probably needed to clean, since he’d be able to handle anyone new coming in.  Then tomorrow Kay would regale her with stories about Relena – especially since he’d opened up enough to admit some of the crazier details of stories from the war, and she was curious about just what the girl was like.  They’d settle back into their routine after he did some extra work to catch up… and even if things were looking harder, life wasn’t too shabby, really. 

            Then again, maybe it was just that nothing seemed half as frightening after that summer that never came… and all the shit that happened instead.  Nothing could ever be that bad again, at least, and anything else… they’d all find a way to make it work.  She and Luc and Shov had before, and they would again; with Kay and all the others they’d somehow gathered up along the way, it’d be easier too. 

            They’d come pretty damn far, and it wasn’t like they were going to let anything wreck their lives after all that. 

-

***

-

**China**

            Wufei couldn’t help but smirk a little as he watched Yu Zi frown, considering her next move. 

            Somehow, visiting over at Kailì’s house had become a common occurrence, sometimes with Shui coming along as well, though not too often – Shui was a _complete_ shut-in.  He generally had to be physically dragged out of their room to be sociable, with few exceptions. 

            Kailì, however, ever since that day when he had verbally and physically _attacked_ him, had gone out of his way to repeatedly trick or entice him into joining his family in this or that activity – most often dinner.  That last in particular was almost entirely enticement; Kailì hadn’t been lying when he said his wife was a most excellent cook. 

            It was hard to ignore an invitation like that when staring at the cafeteria dinner special, debating its nutritive value as well as edibility. 

            Once he actually came to know the man, Kailì reminded him more and more of a few of his professors from before he had been called home to marry the Long heiress…  and while to some degree Xiu Juan’s sharp attitude depressed him, it reminded him more strongly of Meilan’s similarly sharp tongue and actions than of her death.  The easy way Kailì returned his wife’s insults with playful banter had utterly bewildered him at first, but he was beginning to become accustomed to it now. 

            The oddest part of visiting the Lao household, easily, were three and six year old Lien and Jia Li.  The two little girls were constantly either underfoot trying to follow him, or show him something, or hanging on his every word – because apparently Kailì _hadn’t_ been exaggerating about the his feature presentation in a number of bedtime stories. 

            It was an odd sort of ego boost that he was still trying to decide what to _do_ with.  Kailì’s smug smirk when he noticed Wufei redden or fluster under the attention didn’t help – but it did make him more determined to keep his composure. 

            No matter how awkward, however, the little ones were easy enough to deal with – they wanted certain attention from him, but were easy to please, and so long as he didn’t make them cry, their mother was still willing to feed him.  The fifth member of the household, Yu Zi, was a little more complicated.  At fourteen, she was Kailì’s oldest… and sometimes the parallels between her and Meilan were stunning, even as they veered in opposite directions. 

            When he had first seen her, bickering with her mother over something petty, he’d almost turned right back around and walked back out, Kailì’s threats and manipulations, even the amazing smells he’d caught up the hall from their apartment be damned.  The attitude was the same, she wore her hair the same, and he hadn’t wanted to find out if this child of his peer had the same face as his dead wife too.  But for better or worse, before he could finish drowning the outrage that sprung up at the craven thought, she’d heard them and turned… and her narrow face was such a relief it might have been a blow to the solar plexus.  The girl was pretty, he supposed, but her features were vulpine in place of round, eyes clever, and as instead of making demands or pressing him into a role the moment they met, she only introduced herself with all her parents’ lack of propriety and asked if he played xiànqí. 

            It had been a long time since anyone had offered, and he didn’t think Meilan had ever bothered to learn.  Most of the resemblance died there, and he was thankful for it – especially when she proved herself a worthwhile opponent on the board.  He hadn’t lost for nearly a year before he quit in 194, but the girl had nearly had him last night… and he was fairly certain it wasn’t because he had grown unpracticed. 

            Kailì’s pride wasn’t misplaced; she was a bare month or two from finishing the coursework that would allow him to pull her from coursework apprentice her properly.  She was the top of her by a wide margin and carried a pride Wufei knew all too intimately from his own school days… but she also had a temperance entirely foreign to him.  Somehow she had managed to inherit her mother’s cutting temper alongside her father’s cunning, which leant restraint. 

            He was firmly of the belief at this point that she only remained polite with him because she wanted his good will – both for once she joined the amplifier team in the spring and because she couldn’t find anyone else near her skill level to play the traditional version of Western chess with. 

            The utility of it was a relief even as he ached for what Meilan _hadn’t_ been.  It was an entirely _senseless_ dichotomy that he was determined to insure himself against by repeat exposure.  He had no idea how he might have reacted had Kailì simply shown up at work with her one day beyond ‘very poorly’. 

            _I need to grow stronger,_ he reminded himself as he made another move on the board – their third game this week.  The only common line between Meilan and Yu Zi was a passing hairstyle, and yet it was all he could see, despite _knowing_ the girl was an untrained scholar, civilian in every way, the same as her father.  The difficulty he felt despite that was _not acceptable_ , and he _would_ fix it. 

            It was just as well, then, that he could feel Kailì off to the side behind him, undoubtedly smirking, dark eyes twinkling.  _He,_ Wufei decided, _can think whatever he likes, so long as he keeps his mouth shut about it._   And he would – Xiu Juan was a far more modern woman than Meilan’s mother had been, and they were raising their children with very different values than Meilan and he had had impressed upon them.  _It’s probably for the best; we certainly were never happy about it._   Maybe they would have been in time, but why force egis on children ill suited to the role in the first place? 

            In any case, the game and periodic verbal sparring was more fun than he would readily admit; even with the tension of the ghosts haunting his vision, he didn’t know that he had ever felt so at peace, even when he was a child.  Kailì might be trying to subtly aggravate him – doing so obviously would set Xiu Juan on him for breaking hospitality rules with a vengeance, _despite_ her own lack of manners – but there was no reason to let that upset him any more than the younger girls’ herp-worship.  It wasn’t something he could change, so he needed to learn to accept it.  _I was invited, and I’m enjoying myself in spite of everything – I won’t be deterred._  

            …Then again, considering how this had started, Wufei’s stubborn refusal to leave now that he had settled might have been the other man’s goal. 

            He tried not to think too long on that. 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium – Night**

            “Why are we doing this?” Dorothy asked for what was probably, without any exaggeration, the fifteenth time. 

“Because it’s more fun,” Relena returned, having exhausted all rational answers, determined not to actually be forced to repeat herself; she suspected that was exactly what her friend was attempting to make her do.  Jake snorted into his hand, though she couldn’t tell how much of it was amusement and how much exasperation.  Dorothy could be such a _child_ sometimes… but there was something horribly _addicting_ the other woman, and she found herself missing the Romefeller heiress horribly when they were apart for long. 

            It was simply the way of things that once in the near vicinity of her, the inevitable irritation again raised its head. 

            Dorothy grinned in that vaguely predatory way of hers, her eyes flitting over to Jake.  “What is _he_ doing here, then?” 

            “Ouch,” he returned with a yawn.  Adopting a monotone, he continued on.  “I’m hurt, Thea, truly wounded you resent my company.  Besides, five yards, remember?” 

            “Thea?” she demanded in pure surprise, focusing completely on Relena’s bodyguard with enough interest to ignore the new inside joke. 

            “It’s the only way I can come up with to shorten it,” he returned derisively, yawning again.  “I’m finally annoyed with having to say three syllables, and I will _not_ use ‘Dora.’” 

             “Whyever not?”  Her too innocent, honeyed tone was an alarm to those who knew her well. 

            Jake was not one to back down, however… and in all fairness, he knew her well enough to get away with it.  “It sounds too sweet.  Someone might not realize you _bite_ if they heard you called that.” 

            Dorothy giggled delightedly, which made Jake chuckle in turn while Relena grinned.  Before they could step through the last set of double doors into the kitchen, ‘Thea’ leant over to peck the man on the cheek before practically _skipping_ through the doors, leaving her friends behind. 

            Sighing a little and rubbing at his cheek, Jake admitted, “I probably deserved that.” 

            “It _does_ suit her, though,” Relena decided, stepping forward and holding one of the doors open for him.  It had been her grand idea to go get a late night snack – she’d fallen asleep almost as soon as they arrived at the compound and missed the scheduled dinner.  _Hopefully there are leftovers._   She could have easily called down and had something ordered up, as Dorothy had kept insisting they ought to, but…  

            It was nice to walk down yourself, sometimes.  It had been a while since she’d put together her own food, honestly, and that was surreal enough of a realization that she _wanted_ to do it. 

            And, much to Dorothy’s amusement, Relena honestly couldn’t remember the last time Jake had been more than a handful of yards away from her beyond knowing it had definitely happened a few times during her first tour.  In turn, he had insisted, ‘That’s sorta the _point_ ” before shooing them out the door and muttering something about a ‘five yard limit’ to Dorothy that had sent her into giggles the same way his explanation of ‘Thea’ just had. 

            His ability to spin Dorothy around in pure distraction and pleasure only reaffirmed his ability to play people the way he wanted, and on some level that disturbed her…  but at the same time, she could see the genuine happiness he got from her reactions.  She had been near him so long – _Within five yards,_ she reminded herself with an internal snicker – that she had gotten better at telling the differences between the moods and expressions he used as masks compared to his genuine feelings.  He truly relaxed by her now, letting his guard down and his mood fly… and it was interesting even now to see the difference between how he held himself when it was just him and her, or maybe the two of them and David, versus when he was in Dorothy’s company.  His behavior and tone changed completely in the presence of her other guards as well, but he _was_ their superior, so she hadn’t given it much thought… 

            Yet with Dorothy, he was… very much the tolerant older brother, masking the emotions he doubted she would appreciate and making an effort to keep the atmosphere pleasant. 

            It rankled a little to look back and to realize exactly how much he had done the same with _her_ before they left to tour.  He had begun to change at least a little then, though looking back she wasn’t sure how much of that wasn’t just yet another mask… but whatever he had been playing at, he had changed abruptly after what happened with the children in Munich.  _Well, no…_   It wouldn’t be fair to say it had _only_ been a role he played before Munich, because the change hadn’t been at all drastic – just… less genuine.  _That wasn’t the beginning.  We **were** friends before that, just… not close ones._   Their friendship had started when he became her guard – it had just been building incredibly _slowly_ compared to everything since she had saved the little boy that she gathered had looked something like Jake’s dead little brother. 

            There were points of difference in the man’s behavior that had taken her time to realize, because she had so long been outside the strictest definition of rules: Jacob Miller had more layers of ‘shyness’ and dealing with strangers than David Mitchell – they were just less obvious.  Really, it had been meeting Jack, seeing how guarded her blonde colonel was around him, that had allowed her to start piecing together his oddities.  The biggest idiosyncrasy was so glaring she felt embarrassed for not seeing it sooner, however:

            Jake didn’t _touch_ people. 

            Well, he didn’t like to, at least.  He wouldn’t initiate it unless they had passed layers and _layers_ of… personal security.  He didn’t draw attention to it by shying away either, but now that she knew what to look for she could _see_ an increase of tension even when he shook the hand of a stranger – and she had the impression that the boundaries he would allow were as precisely calculated to be within the bounds of average polite and friendly behavior as she had realized his clothing was, last week.  He knew _precisely_ how to hide in plain sight, and how to…  to _tolerate_ … what he didn’t enjoy to the degree that no one noticed the deviation. 

            _Well, not unless he allows you quite close, at least._   And that…  Looking back, his acclimation to her had been a drawn out process. 

            He had first broken past that boundary with her when she had questioned his want to be her bodyguard, and as far as she could remember, he had done so without any of the telltale compunctions, signs of irritation that she had learned to recognize after the disaster with his father. 

            _Touch is trust, to him – and touching strangers means he has to lie._   Children were immune to that distrust, but she didn’t think anyone else was. 

            She had recognized the change after Munich, but it had taken time to realize the details beyond the fact that their relationship had gone from his one-sided support to a two-way street.  It was only now, nearly two months after the fact, that she was beginning to understand how significant it was that only two weeks after Munich, stepping into Jake’s personal space _calmed_ him. 

            Of course, he’d clearly been comfortable enough with _some_ degree of physical attention from her before they had left Brussels.  He had even begun to grow comfortable sliding in and out of her personal space with the same ease he did David – she just hadn’t understood how noteworthy that was at the time. 

            Seeing him interact with Dorothy again now that she had realized, however…  That was striking.  A mask so natural she wouldn’t have acknowledged it as such even just a week ago was in place, sentinel over the secrecy of emotions endangered from Dorothy’s overly inquisitive nature.  He offered enough resistance to feel authentic and comfortable, but there was still something locked in reserve… and he didn’t _do_ that when it was just the two of them, anymore. 

            _‘Look at me, I’m harmless’ says the right hand of the left-handed thief._   It felt… wrong to think of it like that, but… she also didn’t think she was _wrong_.  Instead she couldn’t help but feel relieved that he had ceased to cater to her every whim the same way as he did Dorothy, because she felt as though she could see him a little more straight on for it… 

            But that wasn’t right either.  _He **does** do that… but not exactly?_   He catered to Mitchell too, and she believed that that friendship was absolutely sincere, so it might just be a part of his true personality?  Just not the sweet nonsense he spun for Dorothy.  _I’m overthinking this – everyone has preferred ways of showing affection, don’t they?  Everyone likes to show off for their friends, or make them smile for no reason…_  

            And he hadn’t just accepted her without any holds barred from the outset, which soothed her growing trepidation somewhat.  However playful and obliging he had been when they first met in the compound cafeteria, she remembered all too well the pointed look he had given her when she was in his room and he noted that he was going to bed, silently telling her to get out before he was willing to unlace his shoes. 

            …He certainly _had_ been embarrassed to be caught shirtless by her in the barracks, though.  Knowing him as she did now, she wondered how much of his willingness to keep that state of dress even without her there had to do with his degree of comfort, and how much to do with the expected relax in barracks dress code.  She had never seen him shirtless again – for all that the tight tank tops he wore under everything left little to the imagination – but that might have been from the cold or not wanting to fluster her as easily as modesty… 

            “Well,” Jake noted as they entered the kitchen, “at the very least, I know there’s always soup.”  Eying all the clean, stainless steel surfaces, however, he looked just as unsure of where to start as she felt.  “But, ah… I always just went to the mess hall when I was hungry in the middle of the night.” 

            Relena made a face.  The _point_ in coming home was to avoid seeing too people; she didn’t want to have to deal with a public image tonight.  There was a reason they were here in the kitchen instead of a public space. 

            Dorothy hummed, then headed for one of the large metal doors with obvious insulation.  “If nothing is actively cooking, we should try to refrigerator,” she decided. 

            _…Right.  Logic._

 _God, I’m eating and going straight back to bed, my brain still hasn’t quite-_  

            Speculation was abruptly cut off as a siren began to wail. 

            Frowning, Relena stood up a little straighter, waiting… but no announcement came through the intercoms, and the sound didn’t stop.  Instead, after maybe ten seconds, it was joined by yellow emergency lights. 

            _Aren’t those usually red?_   “Yellow?” she asked numbly.  _Does that mean it’s less serious?_  

            “Red is for fires, or accidental but serious alerts,” Jake explained flatly, his eyes snapping around the room in a calculating way as he locked and barred the doors they had just come through with brisk efficiency.  “A siren with no light changes means it’s not worthy of evacuation, but to be on alert and lock down separate sectors until further notice.” 

            She wasn’t sure she liked this unnerving composure he was displaying now.  _That’s new._   Dorothy’s eyes were wide, though that probably had more to do with him pulling a gun out of somewhere in his baggy jeans and handing it to her before he locked the other entrances to the kitchens.  Relena only just managed to keep her breathing steady as he began hastily opening drawers, obviously looking for something, and spoke again.  “Yellow is a panic button.  Pull out the stops, drain the tubs, worry about your reserves at a later date.  Yellow is for an attack.”  The continued formality of his tone – a tone that she had _never_ heard him use – further chilled her, and her heart began to pound a little harder.  “Did your mother ever teach you how to cook, Relena?” 

            She nodded before realizing he wasn’t facing her.  “The basics,” she affirmed quickly, wondering where the question had come from. 

            “Did she have you do prep work?  Meat, vegetables?”  His tone didn’t change; if it was any indicator, he seemed to have no interest in the answer. 

            _Why does it matter?_   “Often,” she agreed, her mind spinning. 

            “Good.  Maureen Darlian was a sensible enough woman to use the best, easiest tool for any job.  You’ll be relatively familiar with the balance.”  She was about to ask him what on earth he meant by _that_ when he finally stopped, apparently having found what he had been looking for.  Her heart seemed to leap into her throat as he brandished it for her. 

            A chef’s knife. 

            As she froze, he quickly approached her, then stepped behind so his chest was to her back, his arms aligned with hers as he wrapped her right hand around the handle of the foot-long blade, the blade parallel to her forearm, sharp side facing away from her.  Gently but firmly holding her by the wrist, he continued on in that too calm tone as he brought the knife – the _weapon_ – down to her side then upwards and across her body in a slashing motion, then, with her fist nearly level with her shoulder, a different slash in a horizontal line across her body at chest height.  “If you try anything other than that,” he informed her coolly, repeating the motions with her a few more times, then one last with far more speed, “Use both hands.”  Stepping away, he retrieved a second gun from his pants and took a second chef’s knife for himself, though she _knew_ he had other knives on him… 

            _He’s planning for the worst,_ she realized, starting to shake as he handed yet another blade to a shocked Dorothy, though the she was reaching equilibrium far faster than Relena was.  _He wants as many weapons on hand as possible…_   And considering his confidence and how thoroughly he had protected her while fighting with Jack, the fact that he now wanted her armed was terrifying.  _Oh God._   This was serious… this was more than serious.  She had asked to come home for a night, and it had to be this one night that the safety of the compound was lost. 

            Jake looked back to her, head tilting slightly, the ice in his eyes melting a little to make room for obvious concern…  And as hard as it was to do, she grit her teeth and nodded as smoothly as she could manage, moving to follow him as he approached one of the doors he had just locked – but not the one they had come in through.  Dorothy moved to take up the rear and he nodded an approval at both of them before leading them out into who _knew_ what. 

            _Was the alarm been triggered immediately?  Do we have time, or did it get delayed somehow, as any enemy would try to do?_   She remembered how the alarm had _not_ sounded when Duo had come for Heero in the hospital while she was trying to talk Sally into releasing ‘her beau’ until he had literally blown away the entire wall of the high security room ward… 

            But the gundam pilots were the best, weren’t they?  Whoever this was, they couldn’t be as good as Duo and Heero, Quatre and Wufei, as Trowa, could they? 

            She tried to force her breathing into a normal pattern.  _All I can do now is trust Jake to get us out of danger._   Hopefully it wasn’t too far gone already… 

            …and hopefully Jake would be _enough_. 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Coming up next, System Shock!


	34. System Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The attack on Brussels isn't something people are going to forget about any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important note for chapter setting: For sake of your and my sanity both, I’m only roughly dividing base locations into three or four, maybe five sectors; keep in mind that the given areas are still massive, and just because someone might be in the same area as someone else certainly does not mean they will run into each other, it’s only just this side of remote. The Brussels Compound is massive; the grounds themselves I think encompass a number of miles, and “Upper Levels” refers to the top ten or twelve stories, kind of thing. 
> 
>  
> 
> This... was supposed to be an easy chapter to edit, I swear. Instead, I had to paw through literally everything, because shock is shitty. Have fun with that - this chapter is either on par with or heavier on action and trauma than 21 was.

**-**

_**System Shock** _

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**November 23 rd 197 – Thursday – Brussels, Belgium – Compound, Outer breach**

_ Ten minutes earlier _

            Hayden Polanski stifled a groan as he came to, head spinning as he remembered why he was _under_ the console he normally sat at, wanting to do little more than throw up and hold his head… 

            _Gee, Ma,_ he couldn’t help but think sarcastically.  _I guess this is what a **concussion** feels like._  

            He hadn’t seen them coming on any of his view screens, and he _had_ been paying attention – the princess was in residence for the night.  She’d come in through _his_ gate instead of the main to avoid attention, so he _knew_.  Either these assholes had come through a section he wasn’t responsible for… or it maybe started internally?  He wasn’t in charge of any views from deeper inside the compound.  The guy who’d come into his booth hadn’t seemed all _that_ out of place at first; visitors weren’t too common on this shift, but not weird.  People got bored, and you always knew someone else was bored keeping watch on the gates even in the middle of the night. He’ had something blue wrapped around his right arm, but Hayden had figured it was probably something from his kid. 

            Hadn’t had much chance to do more than ask what he wanted before taking a god damn _baseball bat_ to the head, though.  _Asshole._   The room could stop spinning _any time now…_  

            _…Hey, someone’s standing over there._  

            Just one guy, from what he could tell?  _Probably the same fucker who **brained** me._   He was fiddling with something, maybe, or… 

            _…He is **not** talking on a cell phone.  Of all the fucking-_  

            Wait, actually, that sounded more like orders being passed.  Or data reports coming back, maybe…  Something about… doors?  The doors were done?  Way’s clear? 

            Aw, shit, it _did_ start all internal.  _And now they want to bring more people in otherwise, and which is what I’m was supposed to **keep** from happening._  

            Doing his best to keep quiet, Hayden reached for the little revolver he kept holstered just below his right knee.  Major Kushov had said when he was finishing basic last summer that he’d always been taught to always carry more than one gun; people usually stopped looking after they got the first.  Originally he’d been kinda bummed out when all he got was guard duty at the safest base on the planet, but they’d said it was important, and he listened to advice, and hey, maybe this _would_ be important. 

            Hayden was pretty far under the panel in the first place, but it seemed like the guy had completely forgotten about him too, not checking.  He’d probably been put so far back so that anyone who came in would just figure it was the normal guy on duty who was just bored enough to call one of his friends; plenty of the guys did it, even if Hayden preferred a book with an egg timer to make sure he checked regularly if he got really into it.  Either way, it wasn’t hard to get his gun – he kept his uniform pants as baggy as he could without getting yelled at – and wriggle forward enough  and brace both arms so that he had a good aim despite his head.  He’d been top of his class for marksmanship, and he could shoot from where he was fine, but he wanted to be able to counter the guy right after too… 

            Luck was finally with him as the asshole ended his call, and before he could start something else Hayden shot him once in the calf, then high in the right shoulder.  Launching out from under the console made his head worse, but it wasn’t so bad that he lost his balance and missed tackling his attacker. 

            “ _Boo_ , motherfucker,” he growled, pinning both of the guy’s hands over his head with one hand and ignoring his screaming; the bastard had it coming, and so long as he still felt like he needed to shove his head in a damn bucket of ice, he _really_ didn’t care.  He could only find one gun around the hips and torso, so once he got it he grabbed the duct tape he kept in his grab bag under the desk by them and rolled him through the bad shoulder so he could drag his arms behind his back and wrap his wrists in the stuff. 

            …That was bleeding a lot, actually.  He… didn’t care, but he kinda did, maybe?  _Screw it, I don’t know._   It seemed like the right thing to do, so he taped over the bullet hole in the guy’s shoulder and wrapped it tight with good tension, and he still had a distal pulse, so he hadn’t done it totally wrong at least… 

            Then he stood up and smacked the yellow panic button. 

            _This sucks so hard._   He’d _always_ wanted to hit the ridiculously _not red_ panic button, but now that he got to, he couldn’t bother to think it was fun. 

            “Whatever you’ve got going is gonna go to hell now, asshole,” he assured the traitor as he taped over his mouth and resumed searching him… and taping the other bullet hole too.  _Someone’ll want to question him later, right?_   Or even if they didn’t, they might make him clean up the blood on the floor, so he was going to keep _that_ to a minimum…  Once he was sure the guy wasn’t hiding any guns or anything in his pants – which wasn’t as awkward as he thought it might be, from what he remembered of training – he did a couple wraps of tape around his thighs and around his calves – ankles too, once he’d taken his boots.  Taped his upper arms to his chest too; _this_ guy wasn’t going to get loose, he didn’t care if maybe it was overkill. 

            His mom was _never_ talking him out of carrying a roll of duct tape everywhere ever again. 

            Turning back to the console, he grimaced even as he went through more of the protocol.  _If this started inside, then who’s controlling what anyway?  Shit, what a mess…_   At least the right people had some idea of what was going down now, though… 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium – Compound, Lower Levels – Late Night**

            Jake was quiet.  He was quiet to the degree that she had learned meant he was agitated beyond all measure – with the exception of his mask around Jack – but this… this was different. 

            The blonde soldier was leading them through the labyrinth of corridors that was the belly of the Brussels compound with an aplomb she found herself envying.  He was as graceful as a cat, his usual saunter he used to cover that constant readiness stripped away entirely. 

            Jake muttered as a sort of habit; it had always felt like a something he did not so much because it helped him think, but because he actively enjoyed it.  _Both in the noise and the reactions he gets for the running commentary._   Before Jack, she would have just left it at that, but…  _David said that going quiet when he got upset was something Noin had asked him to do; to keep him from going from an easygoing mask of contentment most would can’t tell apart from the true emotion, to… to fury._   He’d said it like the absent-minded habit was a warning system designed for other people. 

            _But **this** … what **is** this?  _

            He frowned when the handle on the next door turned… but the door didn’t move.  He fiddled with the handle a little before tilting his head and staring at the heavy metal door as though expecting it to talk.  Again, the motion was somewhat feline, and distinctly predatory. 

            Without warning, he slammed his shoulder into it with all his weight, and she fought back a flinch. 

            Jake hadn’t looked back, though.  He just tilted his head again, eyes narrowing. 

            “What is it?”  At least the tremor she felt in her limbs didn’t transfer to her voice.  He was silent for a moment more, pursing his lips, before moving back from the door and watching it again.  “Jake?” 

            “It’s welded shut,” he returned in that monotone he had picked up when the signs of danger began.  “Nothing else would hold it that solid.  They know the layout.”  He briskly stepped past them again, gesturing for him to follow as they backtracked. 

            Gritting her teeth and did just that. 

            She pointedly refused to acknowledge the fear that the idea of the door being _welded shut_ brought on. 

            He wasn’t threatening, per se.  She had never found him threatening, and whatever this was, she was behind it again, safe the same way as she had been even when leaping into the middle of his fight with Jack.  _Whatever I do, he will back me._   The rules, his core priorities – they hadn’t changed. 

            David had warned her about involving herself in a fight Jake entered not because he might hurt her, but because she could inflame that rage, stoke it higher, turn it more protective, more _vindictive_.  He had told her that adding to the situation would make it worse, and he hadn’t been wrong. 

            _But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?_   She eyed his back as they turned down a corridor he had dismissed earlier.  _I **directed** him.  He obeyed me before he had time to think about it…  Because he trusts me?  He’d already made the choice to attack._  

            One thought kept returning every time she tried to dismiss it, but while it held a certain logic, she didn’t like it – the implications were daunting.  _It’s almost as if the Jake **I** know, the kind, clever, cunning partner I’d had these past few months had been stripped away to the raw imperatives that let him survive the bizarre childhood that saw him full trained by the time he was nine._  He was abrupt, and without all that calculated grace he wore like a cloak he was _strange_ …  But the deep concern for Dorothy and herself was fully intact.  His priorities had gotten crystalized, emotions translated into objectives, and it felt unnatural… 

            _…But that’s still him._   He just wasn’t bothering to translate between his brain and the rest of the world right now.  _He’s spending the attention he usually saves for camouflage to better use, is all._  

            Losing some of the tension in her shoulders at the realization, Relena turned back to give Dorothy a reassuring smile.  It had taken her a little while to sort through it, but this was fine.  As terrifying as this situation was, she would have felt safe with her friend as he’d been during the fight with Jack, and he was _far_ more in control of his faculties now than he had been then.  Instead of furious and not listening to reason this time, he was extremely logical, and just as protective.  _Just… completely lacking the polished social skills that he quietly maneuvers everyone around him with._  

            It reminded her of something… but she couldn’t remember what. 

-

***

-

**Sahara Desert**

            Robby let out a happy sort of noise that made Razo just about jump out of his skin, turning to stare.  Robby didn’t…  It wasn’t like it had been loud, but Robby didn’t _make_ noises like that.  He trusted his leader in a sort of way he would have thought impossible before _Libra_ , but he knew his moods – they mostly varied between serious and sad and angry and world-weary.  He’d seen the moments where he was verging on insanity too, though Razo had begun to realize that was, at least as far as their group concerned, actually a form of incredibly black humor that had been his way to survive the cages. 

            Once he’d begun to realize that Robby had started to grin and wink at him in a more conspiratorial sort of way that had confirmed it, though he still wasn’t sure how the man had realized he had put it together.  It was just that the next time he had seen him after deciding, the blonde had looked curious before his brown eyes _sparkled_ in an entirely terrifying fashion… and that had been that. 

            “What is it?” he found himself asking, wondering if this was some new level of humor or game Robby had decided to play with him as a distraction – which might be worthwhile – or what.  Robby turned to blink at him in surprise for a moment – _Oh, wait, I said that in French_ –grinning broadly and holding up…  a pack of cigarettes. 

            Razo stared for a second before groaning.  “You have _got_ to be kidding me.”  _He’s seriously that happy over **that**?_  

            On some level, he appreciated that Robby trusted him enough to let more than his usual masks show around him – however uncomfortable it was when some of the other guys asked why the hell _Robby was winking at him_ – but _seriously_ …  “I thought you quit.” 

            “I ran out,” the other man corrected cheerfully, shoving packets of the things into a shopping bag. 

            _Shit, if he acted like this in front of any one of the other guys, they’d faint from **shock**._   Of course, Robby _wouldn’t_ act like this in front of them; alternately Razo couldn’t decide if he ought to be happy that _he_ was so blessed.  “You _know_ those are bad for you,” he argued instead, taking a gamble; he was pretty sure Robby’s general rules didn’t apply in moments like these where he didn’t have an image to uphold, but- 

            “Pros versus cons,” the other man returned easily, still stuffing the plastic bag full.  _Damn, that should cost a ton…_   Not that it mattered, with the store long abandoned.  “They help,” the blonde continued, tying it off and grabbing a second bag; he was taking the entire stock, apparently.  “They help more than anything, for me.” 

            Razo sighed, knowing that argument was useless, if he had decided that.  They’d all developed some habit or other – though some were notably more healthy and productive than _others_ – to help cope, and while he obviously could manage without them, even Razo had to admit that the guy was a little more… functional, when he had access to nicotine.  He locked himself away in the dark – usually with Cory for company – to stare off into space less often. 

            Letting out a little sigh of exasperation, he went to break open the case next to the one Robby had already gotten into, pulling out the patches for quitting.  He doubted he could convince the man to stop at any point – and by the little noise the man made, he apparently found the idea incredibly amusing – but he could probably talk him into wearing one of the patches sometimes instead of fucking up his lungs on a regular basis.  Making sure to keep his voice low, he asked, “When we get out…  Will you quit?” 

            Robby grimaced, the humor gone.  “I’ll cut back, but it just _helps_ too much to completely abandon it.” 

            When he said it like that, it made Razo wonder if it really _was_ just trauma and a coping mechanism, or something else entirely. 

            Robby was watching him closely now, so he just sighed, shaking his head a little as he grabbed a few more of the kits before heading back into the rest of the one-time gas station to see what else of use hadn’t been scavenged yet. 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium – Compound, Upper Levels**

            Lin stared in something close to fascination as the string of curses flying out of Mitchell’s mouth, wondering how many _languages_ it was… though he caught words here and there he recognized from watching too much anime as Japanese. 

            That _had_ to be from knowing Jake so well; at this point, especially considering how close the two were, he figured Mitchell was fluent in the language as well.  Despite how much their commander hated his father, he fully embraced the L1 culture.  His Japanese was perfect – one of the hydroponics engineers had asked which part of the cluster he was from based on his accent – and Lin had seen a flash of kanji tattooed on the side of his torso one morning when the guy was changing.  Considering how close they were – and the polyglot tendencies of every Special he’d ever heard of – he wouldn’t be surprised if Mitchell had learned the language just to be able to help his friend keep up with it.  He’d tried reading their lips a few times when they were off to the side talking privately a few times, but all he’d been able to tell was that they weren’t using English. 

            Apparently Lincoln had been the only day shifter who had already been in bed and easy to find when the alarms went off, because he’d just barely gotten his shirt on when Mitchell had slammed into the room.  Due to their position, Jerome and the rest of the normal night guard had been immediately sent to Mr. Peacecraft.  With so many hostiles to account for, trying to _find_ the missing princess would be an act of futility – wherever the three of them had gotten to in the middle of the night, Colonel Miller was likely trying to quietly evacuate her and Miss Catalonia before the public ever found out they had been there in the first place. 

            _Well, there’s no point in the whole group going – they’d just draw enough attention to pick a fight and never get anywhere._   Mitchell had snatched him up as back-up before he dove into the bowels of the base in a more surgical strike to make _sure_ the princess was safely out… but it was slow-going.  At the moment they were barricaded in a room several floors down from the Peacecraft siblings’ suites, still a number above the ground floor, and had been for several minutes – there hadn’t been too many options when the intruders decided to introduce themselves with submachine guns.  Once they were secure Mitchell had gotten out his cell phone to call for help, so hopefully they wouldn’t be there for door long….

            Lin was just glad that they were _working_ this time.  Whoever these guys were, they weren’t smart enough to use scramblers. 

            _Not that that’s as much help as it **should** ,_ he groused.  The first thing they’d done when they found Relena’s room empty was call Miller’s phone… only to hear it ring on the coffee table in Miss Relena’s suite, sitting next to _hers_. 

            Mitchell’s frustration but dismissive attitude toward the action suggested that the man leaving his phone behind – or forgetting to use it – was far from an isolated problem.  _Not that that’s too surprising, with how much of Jake’s **listed** work history required either extreme stealth interspersed with heavy violence._   A cell going off at the wrong time could be a death sentence, in that line of work… 

            …But that didn’t change the fact that the man was alone with the princess and _hopefully_ the Romefeller heiress somewhere in the bowels of the building, surrounded by entirely unknown and violent fighters, with no immediate means of communication.  _And seeing as it’s **Jake** , we’re probably not going to find him close to the kitchens Jerome said he mentioned when they left._  That could be good _or_ bad, as their enemies wouldn’t have any idea either, but seeing as they didn’t know their goals for the night…. _They could just as easily be walking **into** trouble as out of it._  

            It was too bad that Jake’s computer had been in lockdown mode, preventing them from booting up the program for the princess’s locator necklace.  That probably would have calmed both Mitchell and the prince considerably, but there hadn’t been time for Mitchell to try and sift through what might be the password with the attack at who only knew what stage.  _We need a better back-up plan for that, next time._   Jake had designed the damned thing with the intent that _he_ would be the only one to run a search on her, which was, uh… short-sighted. 

            On the bright side, there were considerably worse people to fight back to back with than David Mitchell – even if he _could_ be a little creepy.  You just… had to ignore the subtext and focus on the words themselves.  The darker-haired colonel verged on a berserker sort of fighting style, and while it was a little pants-shittingly terrifying it wasn’t an advantage he was going to question. 

            All the warnings about not taking either Miller or Mitchell’s tone of voice into account when the stakes got high were suddenly making sense.  He didn’t know about Jake, but at least with Mitchell, it was _sound as fuck_ advice. 

-

***

-

**Prague, Czech Republic**

            Something was wrong… _incredibly_ wrong… but I couldn’t tell _what_. 

            _Whatever it is isn’t **here** ,_ I decided bitterly, nodding curtly at the uncertain looks my men were casting me.  And no wonder; I’d been stalking our base and all the area surrounding it for the past thirty minutes, and I was sure my mood showed. 

            I was also sure that those who didn’t remember had probably heard plenty of skewed of rumors about what had happened to the _last_ moron who had confronted me in this sort of mood. 

            Really, there was no comparison to be made between the two.  I’d been upset both due to my own issues and the fact that that boy _was_ a moron with no concept of what it was we were trying to accomplish here.  This wasn’t about glory; our work probably wouldn’t be noted well in history books, though we _would_ succeed.  Sally and my goals revolved around getting the dirty work done to keep civilization from toppling the way it had in North Africa. 

            The boy Ahmad had found feral and half starving but still _sane_ in spite of it last month had painted a disturbing picture of what was happening in the Sahara, far clearer than anything Xutao or the Regime had managed to piece together: 

            Cambyses was a massive _cult_ that had formed up in what had originally been the displaced American refugee camps; one that had gained enough of a following and power fast and early enough after the Fall that it swept through the desert like an infection.  The principles… I could see the origins in resentment, in the sparse supplies anyone had been scarcely able to offer, but that didn’t make the results any less terrifying. 

            They… had killed everyone who wasn’t useful.  Predominantly women and children.  _Too many mouths to feed.  Defend from outsiders…  Only the strongest are worth the price of life._  

            It sent shivers up my spine, to think it had degraded so _far_.  Then it had gone one step further, taking land from their neighbors, then their people, further and further in a twisted paramilitary worship of nothing but _violence_ – violence as _a way of life_.  Even their recruits, they…  They _kidnapped_ young people from nearby towns and locked them in a quarantine of interconnected cages where they had no _choice_ but to fight and kill to survive until they’d been conditioned and indoctrinated, gaslighted into believing it was the only way to stave off death.  The ones who made it out of the cages were organized into legions, assigned to patrol and scavenge different areas of the oases – left only to scrounge what they could to survive… 

            _…Scrounge, or raid the remaining civilians and spread the infection.  Die, or spread the misery even further._  

            Xutao had brought home _some_ news from his run-in with them in Egypt before the Regime had shut down all the land routes in and out of Africa, but he’d only seen the edges of it – heard about the ‘Iron Ghetto’, and picked up a few pertinent but equally disturbing rumors.  They had hoped to get more, but they had made him too quickly to do much good… which, in hindsight, was a good thing.  Cambyses had been around since at least August 196 – if not longer – and the first live runaway anyone had come across was little Yasa just last month.  _If he had gone in any deeper, we might never have seen Xu again._  

            It had been bad enough when he had run and been mistaken as a real Cambyses man by Regime men holding the border outside Alexandria – he’d had to make a mad dash for the nearest democratic zone with a bullet in his arm, then spent all summer dodging pursuers just trying to get home and deliver his intel.  _And the only **good** news was that the twisted fucks leading that abomination have at least some limits – they executed a handful of squadrons while Xu was there for cannibalism._  

            Small mercies; at least the changing climate, the man-killing sandstorms and the mountains Yasa had been brave and desperate enough to try climbing was keeping them from venturing further south into my territory, or too deeply west, into the Maguanac stronghold that was Morocco. 

            Sighing, I stalked into my quarters again and locked the door, throwing myself back on my bed.  There was nothing I could do about that right now but make myself heartsick – and it wasn’t what was throwing me off right now, depressing as it was.  _I’m usually calmer than this, anymore…_   But it was like something was crawling under my skin, making me want to lash out. 

            It wasn’t the first time it had happened… but always before, it had been when something terrible was happening.  The crawling horror of Sanc’s second fall, the dawning lunacy and ramp-up of panic which each action taken at _Libra_ …  Never in a vacuum like this.  _Something_ was going wrong, somewhere, and it was important, I _knew_ , but not _what_ …  Or why I should have any idea.  It had happened a few other times in my life even when I was younger, but I’d never really _acknowledged_ it because it sounded crazy – I was Earthborn, and even without that, space heart debates all agreed that the ability relied heavily on proximity. 

            I wasn’t a space heart – it was just instinct, my subconscious picking up on something the rest of my brain had glossed over.  I refused to underestimate that, of course – it had saved my life more than a few times, and I didn’t give a damn about anyone who called it superstition or paranoia – but… there was nothing else I could do.  Part of my pacing the damn base had been to put every system and on duty personnel on high alert – along with probably quite a few of those _not_ on duty, storming about like that – but….

            I was starting to feel more and more sure that it wasn’t happening _here_ at all. 

            Hopefully something would explain my impromptu paranoia before I had to explain myself to Sally.  The last thing I wanted was for her to put me on some sort of sick leave for a week because she thought I was verging on a breakdown again. 

            I was done with _that_ bullshit. 

            Letting out an annoyed growl, I sprung to my feet and slammed back out of my room, the violent motion feeling good, but not helping me really calm down.  If it wasn’t something coming here then I didn’t need to conserve all my strength – the gym sounded like a good idea.  Maybe I’d even run into one or two of my wayward students and shoot down a few overconfidence problems; Xu lacked imagination that needed to be pounded in through experience, and while Hilde had that in _spades_ , her foundations were still new.  Her body could always use more conditioning, even with how far she’d come. 

            Those disparities was the original reason I’d welcomed Hilde’s twisted little game that probably had them stalking each other across the base now, avoiding notice.  Xutao had taken longer to catch on than I’d hoped, but the blows to his pride of being taken down by his partner had likely been just as necessary in the end, and they _were_ both improving now. 

            For a while there, I had been worried that Sally would decide to go over my head and put a stop to it anyhow; and that just didn’t present a good image to my men. 

            Pulling out my phone, I scrolled to Hilde’s number first; I needed a distraction before I destroyed something. 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium – Compound, Lower Levels**

            It was only another five minutes after they had found the first sealed door before yellow lights were exchanged for red, and the base shifted to emergency lighting.  The surreal quality of it all deepened with that, even as adrenaline pumped harder through Relena’s bloodstream.  She couldn’t help but remember the last time this had happened, on _Libra_ with Heero… 

            He had been so brusque; but at the same time he had been _trying_ so hard to make it easier on her.  She had seen the concern, the worry in his eyes, so very different from when they had first met on that beach… 

            She forced herself out of her reverie, trying to focus on their surroundings: this was _not_ the time to reminisce about Heero.  Red meant there was a fire somewhere now, and her heart refused to slow again despite her best efforts.  The red lighting, while it would preserve night vision, was… traumatic, in so many ways.  It carried so much history. 

            She remembered the approaching ambulance they had run from when her father was mortally wounded, because it would likely only put him in the hands of those that had organized the assassination – not that keeping him had saved him. 

            She remembered discovering the underground base Noin had been working through in the Palace, when the attacks had been launched… she had been furious beyond words that they had gone behind her back… yet so incredibly grateful for the fact that they cared, and were doing everything they could to keep the kingdom safe…  Not that it had worked. 

            It had been there, in those red lights, that Dorothy had convinced her to become Queen, as everything else collapsed around her, and she had accepted even though she knew she was stepping into a marionette’s role… 

            And even though she had turned the tables on Romefeller, it had been at Sanc when red lights began to mean entrapment.  _Libra_ only driven the point home harder. 

            It was starting to look like the doors had been systematically sealed off to funnel all personnel into a select few pathways.  She didn’t want to think about what had been done to the people who frequented those areas in order for them to get so much done before the alarms went off. 

            Jake was acting just as predatory now as before, but she was growing more thankful for it as it grew harder to bury her panic.  He was so unflappably calm and methodical it was surreal, and Dorothy was somehow following his example, coolly taking up their rear – so she, the one with no training in fighting, was the most protected. 

            She hated feeling this helpless…  This hopeless… 

            _What is **happening**?  _

            “We need to find an armory,” Jake decided suddenly.  “We haven’t run into anyone yet, but the direct routes in and out are gone.  The only ones we haven’t checked lead through areas that are either funnel points or sealed as well.  The only sure exception is our original route down, but there has to be movement that way now…”  He looked straight into Relena’s eyes, and she found herself wanting to shiver at the way they pierced.  “Princess, I don’t think we’re leaving without a fight.” 

            Instead of being even more chilled at that statement, however, something in her just… exploded.  “You gave me a foot-long knife because you _didn’t_ think we would see action, Jacob?” she snapped sarcastically, glaring at him. 

            Not _everyone_ could stay so calm! 

            He blinked at her, showing no emotion whatsoever.  “A precaution,” he noted after a moment. 

            She gave him a steady look to show what she thought of _that_ … before shaking her head.  _At least he’s talking again…_  His silence had unnerved her more than anything. 

            A thought occurred to her.  _He was following orders both then and when I told him not to kill Jack, right?_  

            “Where’s the nearest armory?” she asked, forcing her tone to be brisk.  He said they needed one, and she wasn’t going to doubt his judgment; she knew next to nothing about weaponry and what might be needed to defend themselves tonight, and she had the idea that part of his behavior earlier, upon finding themselves sealed in, was the fact that he didn’t have a cushion of incendiary protection to fall back on. 

            At least, she remembered the amount of weaponry Duo had needed to rescue Heero from that hospital, and she had read reports about the fights the boys had gotten into, and those were potentially the odds they were facing.  _They felt confident enough to storm Brussels, and even with high levels of subterfuge… they would need a small army, to think they might succeed.  There’s an **army** between us and the exit._   Evacuating through that was a job that would make anyone edgy, especially when the priority was to protect a defenseless princess – at least Duo had been rescuing _Heero_ , even if he had been injured. 

            _I am going to work on that once this is over with,_ she decided firmly.  The damsel in distress role was getting old.  And while the idea of learning to fight would have horrified her two years ago… now, it would be foolish now not to learn just a _little_ , for the same reasons Jake had seen fit to hand her a foot-long _knife_. 

            Holding the thing really made her wish she knew how to handle a gun, instead; there was a little less chance of her hurting herself. 

            She hardly listened to the response he gave her – she hadn’t actively realized that the different areas of the compound were listed by letters and numbers, and honestly had no idea where he meant.  “What do we need to do to get there?” she asked instead.  When he frowned, she added, “Or, what is closest to the route available to us?”  He had been trying to lead them out of the base, every sealed door they had tried was away from the center…  “Priority is _not_ escape,” she informed him firmly. 

            He frowned, but she shook her head and overrode him before he could even open his mouth.  “We have no guarantee the city’s even safe.”  She doubted that the attack was _that_ widespread, whatever the motive, but it was possible that men were waiting outside, and she doubted that this strike could succeed.  Honestly, they were safer in the compound even if it _was_ under attack.  He could keep her safe while on the premises.  _Although…_   “We haven’t seen anyone thus far; is there a chance we might be safest if we remain here?”  She certainly wasn’t interested in rushing out into any fighting if they didn’t have to. 

            “This might be the by-product of funneling other areas,” Jake admitted coolly, his gaze piercing, “and therefore safe, but we don’t know how they controlled the original public objectives; gas of some kind was likely involved, and we have no guarantee that there’s a solid seal to keep any noxious chemicals contained – or that they’re not about to gas this area as well.” 

            Relena’s stomach wrenched, hard.  “And our original route down?” 

            He began walking quickly back in the direction of what she could only presume, at this point, was the kitchen.  “It’s likely the best option, now that escape routes are exhausted.” 

            Left with little choice, the two young women darted after the soldier. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            Melissa sighed as she stepped out of the cold, back into the relative warmth of the first level of the Den, glad to be off work; she just wanted to fall into her bed…  and burst into giggles as she was practically swept off her feet from behind, grasping at the arms around her waist for balance.  “You’re home,” she greeted happily, twisting to grin up at Kay.  She could have _sworn_ he’d grown again… 

            “Hey,” he returned happily, burying his nose in her hair, lips pressed to her scalp.  “How was work?” 

            “Nothing worth talking about,” she dismissed, letting him fully take her weight; delighting in the way his arms were wrapped around her for a moment before she pulled away and headed for the kitchen.  She’d planned on working at the shop that evening, but someone else had called in sick at the last minute and her superior had asked if she could fill in, so she’d left Amos in charge until closing.  She’d only just managed to run home to change into her uniform and make up two sandwiches before running back out the door, so now she was starving; one sandwich she’d scarfed one on the way there and the other had had to tide her through a whole ten hour shift.  She had gum too, and that helped distract her from wanting something else to eat while she patrolled, but it was definitely time for dinner, now. 

            Kay followed her, and she grinned a bit at him as Amos and Nolan, sitting on the couch fiddling with a deck of cards, snorted in either amusement or disgust; it was hard to tell, with fourteen-year-old boys.  She couldn’t care less if they didn’t appreciate the sap; she knew Nolan didn’t actually mind her relationship, and _she_ certainly appreciated a bit of unadulterated, stupidly cliché romance. 

            _Ooh, soup!_   It had been left covered in a pot on the stove so anyone could come in and dish out a bowl to microwave.  No one would put it away until brunch got started up, so it was there for anyone coming home late who had missed dinner, like her; or if they were heading out early and wanted something before they left.  She turned to the cabinet, but Kay was already getting out two bowls.  She frowned.  “You haven’t eaten yet?” 

            “I thought I’d wait for you,” he admitted, setting the bowls on the counter and grabbing the ladle.  “I’ve only been home for maybe thirty or forty minutes anyway.” 

            “Mm, such a gentleman,” she declared, wrapping her arms around him and resting her face against his back… he was just a little too tall for her to put her head on his shoulder.  _Definitely growing._   She’d been able to do that, last month. 

            “Gentleman?” he returned skeptically, twisting slightly to look back at her. 

            Giggling, she refused to pull away from his back, closing her eyes.  “ _My_ gentleman,” she decided to clarify.  Laughing a little more, she added, “My _blonde_ …  that’s going to take some getting used to.”  It wasn’t _blonde_ blonde, but it certainly wasn’t brown, and it was very different from the jet black she had always known him for, with or without the dramatic red streaks. 

            He’d colored it shortly before his trek to Germany, and she’d even picked the color with him, but it was still a little startling.  It looked better on him than the black, to be sure… though it made her try imagining him with that warm brown that was supposed to be his original color more often. 

            Sighing in an overdramatic, put-upon way, he turned to put the bowls in the microwave with a paper towel over the both of them, and she stubbornly continued to cling to his back, giggling at the sheer ridiculousness of it but not bothering to stop…  Though she squealed in surprise when he did something with his feet to spin himself around to face her anyhow.  She grabbed at his shirt and smiled, feeling her face flush from adrenaline. 

            He raised his eyebrows, looking down at her bemusedly.  “You’re _tired_ ,” he decided. 

            “Mmhmm,” she agreed easily, closing her eyes and resting her head against his chest, listening to his heart.  “It’s been a long day.” 

            He chuckled a little, and she smiled as she felt the rumble pass through his chest.  “Yeah,” he agreed.  “No kidding.” 

            “So what happened?” 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium – Compound, Lower Levels**

            The kitchen was still empty when we returned to it – which made sense, seeing as Jake had barred nearly all the entrances – and the man only paused to snatch up a fire extinguisher before leading us back up the stairs we had originally come down. 

            His abrupt turn in behavior was both a startling…  Probably because I had never seen Relena’s knight in shining armor – _well, uniform, really_ – in anything _nearing_ this state.  Relena obviously was new to it as well, but from watching them, I was positive that it wasn’t entirely exotic to her; the princess had witnessed some variation before.  I had been shocked when she turned to order him around – I had been _far_ from willing to brave – but they seemed to slide into predetermined roles then, her directing with him providing the means… 

            What _had_ I missed on their tours through Europe? 

            _And what does he want with the fire extinguisher?_   I was trying to decide if the prospect was curious, exciting, or if it made me want to take hold of my princess and run.  This was the Jake that had earned his high rank, no bars held. 

            We _really_ ought to have just ordered up to Relena’s rooms. 

            _Exactly what does think he can accomplish with a **fire extinguisher**?  _

            Sure that no one might come on us from the rear for now, I ducked ahead of Relena to pace alongside our newly feline friend, giving him a pointed look when he glanced my way.  He obviously had a plan of some sort, and I wanted in on it; unlike the princess, I had at least some idea of how to handle myself in a violent situation.  I met that storm of cold calculation for a moment before he nodded and focused back on where he was going, hefting the extinguisher. 

            …I was still at something of a loss, though I decided it might be best if I didn’t act as though that were the case.  He knew I wasn’t shocked into inaction by what was happening, and hopefully I would be factored in on those grounds.  I turned back to consider Relena, to find her calmly doing the same to me. 

            _How disconcerting._   I needed to keep Relena’s apparent changes in mind as well as Jake’s.  I raised one brow at her and she only gave me that amused, mildly patronizing look that I actually rather cherished – the one that said she wasn’t sure she appreciated my antics, but accepted them anyhow.  I smiled as sincerely as I could before focusing back ahead and on our surroundings as the first door that might lead us to danger approached. 

            And then it all seemed to happen at once. 

            I heard a solid, “Back,” as an order from Jake before the man was exploding forward, slamming open the door without any hesitation.  There was a sharp intake of breath followed by a soft hiss and gasp before I heard the sound of hard metal meeting flesh and what I imagined was someone collapsing…  And Jake stepped back into view, shaking his hair out of his eyes as he gestured us forward, tucking his gun into the waistband of his jeans. 

            We did just that, though I was flushing from embarrassment that I had been entirely dismissed.  Or maybe it was from the pure stress of running around frightened for my life?  Or just awe that he had moved so _fast_ and eliminated a threat before I even had a chance to react to him, and done it so thoroughly well… 

            _…Did he just spray flame-retardant fluid down that traitor’s throat to keep him from screaming a warning to anyone nearby?_

            He gestured us to stay in the corridor near the door and gave me a pointed look, glancing around the room, before kneeling to quickly check the man over – probably looking for anything useful both in terms of information and physical.  Taking the hint, I stepped over the threshold, keeping the doorway blocked from Relena but offering cover for Jake if we were discovered prematurely. 

            We weren’t, thankfully; Jake disarmed the soldier and apparently found no identification beyond a blue armband – that was likely how they recognized each other.  He slung the man – who was either dead or knocked unconscious – over his shoulders and shuffled past us, swiftly making his way down the stairs and dropping him in the kitchen before hastening back.  He nodded at me again and, without any more than a gesture to follow, led us down a different hall, gun trained. 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium – Compound, Upper Levels**

            Milliardo grit his teeth, trying to keep his breathing even.  He had been exhausted and more than ready to collapse in his bed after a long day when the alarms had gone off, and his body was _screaming_ its protests…  He didn’t want to think of what shape he’d be in if he hadn’t already taken his painkillers for the night, even if they fuzzed his senses.  Determination was the only thing keeping him upright and moving now, after he’d been forced to duck and tumble a few times…  He wished he’d bothered to pay more attention when he was still in training, where Noin, Jake, and sometimes even Treize would play a form of tumbling tag across the grounds.  The easy mobility they had learned would be useful now where it had never been before. 

            He had never regretted his complete focus on MS training more than now.  He’d only done the bare minimum required in other areas, striving to be the best in the one skill that might give him a chance at avenging his parents and lost home, and even then Noin still outclassed him – though she had let him have the false prestige, the title of the best. 

            Relena’s guards had joined his own as they moved to a stronger position, and he could only trust that Miller would keep his sister safe… they had to have been at least _near_ the kitchens when the klaxons went off, and Jake had the layout of the base perfectly memorized.  He could evacuate her and Dorothy without too much trouble, or hide and protect them if that became impossible.  At least their enemy should have no way of knowing that the princess was currently in residence, and therefore would not immediately target her. 

            Yet, the compound was already compromised from the first alarm to such a degree that it screamed betrayal… and lectures from Jake and Lee about internal security rang bitingly in his head.  To fool the alarms for so long there must have been at least _some_ moles, and in more than one department.  _Not just spies; full sleeper cells._   They had first encountered fighting only two floors down from his and Relena’s personal quarters; _far_ too close for comfort. 

            The alarm had been _severely_ delayed. 

            _What else have they already done?  What are they after?_   Their proximity to the high suites suggested _him_.  This kind of attack would have taken enough planning and coordination that the date couldn’t have moved suddenly – they hadn’t struck because of Relena. 

            _How many are still lying under cover?_   Not many in the direct fighting, he’d imagine, or they would risk killing their own… but he was going to have to begin purging his men for agents after this crisis was over. 

            He had immediately borrowed the uniform overcoat of one of the men and pulled his hair into a ponytail before tucking it down the collar to keep the distinct white fall from being immediately visible.  He had his own gun from his rooms and a decent amount of ammo as well as the standard issue combat knife he had learned the basics with as a cadet, and well as a rapier.  He had never been near Treize’s level of skill, and his focus was more on point than saber, but the motions of the sword were more familiar than with a knife.  He had learned to fence in early childhood; the muscle memory was firmly grounded, even if he was out of practice. 

            He nodded when he was motioned to and they moved forward again, the immediate threat neutralized; they needed to get to the nearest surveillance room and attempt to survey the damage. 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium – Compound, Main Levels**

            After that _charming_ display with the fire extinguisher, there was relatively little opposition to be found; this area was nearly as barren as before.  On the other hand, there was clear evidence of past fighting, walls marred by gunfire and a few men both with and without blue bands lying on the ground.  Jake spared them no attention and Dorothy’s glances about were just as cursory, so I did my best to ignore the bile rising in my throat and keep pace with my guard.  Whatever was happening, it seemed to be moving with an increased elevation in terms of the locale of the base… 

            …If they were after my brother, I couldn’t help but wonder, as much as the idea sent chills down my spine… if it might help my situation, should they succeed. 

            I followed Jake blindly though back halls and areas I had never explored; or perhaps they had been rendered unrecognizable by the fighting.  I could tell that it had been brutal, in some places… but the further we went without seeing any of the instigators, the higher my hopes rose that maybe we would get out of this without any more trouble than we’d already seen. 

            Was it possible to truly jinx an idea? 

            The fast turnaround seemed to say that yes, it certainly was…

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium – Compound, Lower Levels**

            “Mitchell?” Lincoln called cautiously before coming through the door.  “Any sign?” 

            They had made it all the way down the base little by little… whoever had led the invasion either didn’t know the layout as well as the colonel did, or they didn’t have the manpower necessary to cover all routes.  The latter theory was supported by the fact that as they came to the lower reaches of the building, they found it virtually abandoned. 

            “Well, if you count a dead man as a sign, I’d say.”  Mitchell’s tone was even more amused than earlier… which made Lin wonder edgily if it was true amusement on top of his superior’s bullshit, or if they had moved into even deeper water. 

            “Ours or blue?” he asked after a moment, moving around to see for himself. 

            “No band, but he smells like potassium acetate.” 

            The man’s tone of voice was so firmly smug yet still sensual that it sounded like he had to be talking about something pornographic; had he just gotten _worse_?  _This is one damn long night…_   Whatever Jake’s ‘battlefield’ mode was, it _had_ to be better than this.  “Potassium acetate?” he asked in as flat of a tone he could manage. 

            The colonel’s eyes lit up in a dangerous sort of way that rather made his hindbrain want to run, before he swept a purposeful glance around the room.  “I don’t see the extinguisher, and this _is_ a kitchen…”  He stood from the crouch he’d kept by the body, grinning broadly.  “They were here; and the body’s still warm, so not _too_ long ago…”  He tilted his head slightly, and seemed to be merely thinking aloud now.  “The question is, what direction did they take…?” 

            “Wait, how do you know they were here?” Lincoln demanded, even more confused.  First the guy was listing off chemical compounds, and now it looked as though he might dash off down one of the other entrances…  Though they were barred from this side, actually…  Only one wasn’t. 

            Mitchell started off down that hall as soon as Lin noticed it, and he had no option but to follow.  His sometime friend was chuckling now as he continued to talk; he seemed far more relaxed down here.  “Imagine highly pressurized foam being shot down your throat as you take a breath to shout.”  He turned around to grin at Lincoln’s wince.  “Hushes you up damn nice and fast.” He chuckled again as he turned back to face forward, considering the first intersection they came to.  “Mix isn’t toxic, but the pressure usually collapses the lungs.” 

            And it clicked together, however perverse the idea was at first.  It… well, it _did_ make a sort of sense…  “And Jake?” he asked, just for confirmation. 

            “ _Trademark_ ,” the dark-haired colonel drawled, though it was practically a purr…  _Damn, but I’m glad I mostly work under Jake._   Not that Mitchell wasn’t normally entirely cool, but if some sort of situation like this ever managed to happen again, he was sticking by the _blonde_ colonel; tonight was going to give him nightmares, and the fighting wasn’t even half of the reason. 

            Hopefully, they could just confirm that Miller had evacuated the heiresses and have at least that worry done with. 

-

***

-

**Brussels** **, Belgium** **– Compound, Main Levels**

            The world was spinning on an impossible basis…  everything so slow yet impossibly fast… 

            The first gunshot was loud enough that I could have sworn it would rupture my eardrums.  I knew that was strange – the sound of a gun firing was loud, but I didn’t remember it being _that_ loud.  Was it because it was the acoustics of the closeted halls, or due to a higher caliber? 

            I was aware, on some level, of Jake snatching me by the arm and forcing me into a run that I fell into with little difficulty; I wasn’t _being_ slow, even though it felt like it.  My mind and body had detached somehow, so that even as I raced at Jake’s side I was catching little details: like how the carpet was a different color down this hall than the last, and how odd it was that that little niche with a vase and silk flowers was completely undisturbed, or how incredibly dilated Dorothy’s eyes were- 

            We spun suddenly, somehow, and I was twisted half sideways, trying to catch my footing as Jake faced the direction we had come, firing his gun at the men chasing us three, four times, dropping all three in sight before we were moving again, and this time it seemed like I was being half carried; I was too slow… 

            He’d carried me in Munich too… only this time it was half to his front, half to his side, so he could move me quickly out of harm’s way, like in Barcelona. 

            More gunfire, and the sound of men crying out in pain…  Had that been Dorothy?  I couldn’t see, positioned as I was, but I thought so… she was picking off the men who lagged just behind the ones Jake had already killed for my sake. 

            If this was true fear, then I don’t think I much minded, really.  This numb fascination… everything was dreamlike, with the flaring red lights spinning like a too slow strobe against the dim background of shadows. 

            This _couldn’t_ be the place I had lived and worked in for the past year… 

            It was _Libra_ all over again only worse, Heero guiding me through the same emergency lit halls, only this time I didn’t know what was going on at _all_ , and the mystery was more awful even than the knowledge that the battleship gearing up to fire another shot at Earth.  There had been hope to simply _stop_ that from happening, even though it had turned out to be worthless. 

            This… what _was_ all this?  An assassination attempt?  An endeavor to bring down the Regime altogether – were they striking other key bases at the same time, to try to bring us down in a matter of days, the way OZ had the Alliance?  Something else entirely?  They had come on a night when I was not supposed to have been in residence… had they known that, or not? 

            Were they swarming on the hotel I was supposed to be at as well? 

            There was more gunfire and my bodyguard snarled as he abruptly changed direction again and-  

            I _screamed_ as white-hot fire tore through my arm. 

            The world blurred and swayed, my knees going weak as I gasped for air.  As soon as I began to fall, however, I had been swept up into a bridal carry as Jake barked something else out…  I gripped at his shirt as tightly as I could, my eyes squeezed shut. 

            _Oh God…_  

            “Pressure,” I heard him whisper hoarsely.  Ducking into somewhere free of the fighting, he shifted my weight to move one of my hands to cover the hurt arm…  slippery wet…  _Oh God…_  

            “Lena?” 

            And that… he sounded almost like himself again…? 

            “Lena, _pressure_ ,” he whispered, and I opened my eyes to look into his.  They were… not normal, but not like before either.  His voice wasn’t so cold and impersonal now, but it wasn’t _right_ either… 

            He looked… scared. 

            _Scared for me?_  

            “Lena, honey, come on, you have to hold pressure until we get somewhere I can wrap it…” 

            Turning to hide my face in his chest, still keeping a death grip on his shirt with the one hand, I gripped my hurt arm with the other even as it made me cry harder… 

            And, tightening his grip on me, he started moving again. 

-

***

-

**L1**

            Marlé sighed as the bleach started to slide out of her hair once under the spray of the shower; the stuff smelled awful, and she’d already been sitting with it for over twenty minutes.  Both her and Odin’s roots had started to show, and they didn’t have the same brands up here to pick the colors from, so they had to do _all_ of their hair again instead of just the not blonde parts, and it _itched_.  _At least the kit comes with a pretty nice conditioner …_  

            She tried to be fast so Odin could sit in the hot water for a while, since this wasn’t one of the nicer places they’d stayed at and she thought they might run out eventually.  He didn’t need it anywhere near as much as he used to, though; his leg seemed to be getting better all the time. 

            Today had been a good day, aside from the nastiness of the bleach.  They’d stayed at the park until nightfall, going up and down the wall and play fighting with tumbles and the basic blocks he’d taught her before stretching out again and walking to get dinner and hair dye.  She’d learned a lot and it had just been… fun.  And Odin had seemed to be really having fun too, so that was even better. 

            Trying to dry off her hair as much as she could as she got back out, she couldn’t help but remember how proud she’d been of her red hair, just five months ago; before her grandfather had taken her away from Meagan and she’d realized it was one more way to find her quickly, if she ran.  She’d been bleaching it for four months now… because even though the news said Grandfather was dead, who knew who was looking for her?  That man in Italy, he could’ve been someone who got away from the colony before the Regime arrested everyone, who recognized her and was mad about the lies – what if he had followed her to try to hurt her?  Or if he _believed_ the lies, and wanted to use her just like Grandfather? 

            _Four months…_   Not even a semester yet, but it was starting to feel like she’d been on the road with Odin for years.  Was that normal?  She _liked_ the life they’d cut out for themselves… was even starting to think about how she’d miss it, after they found her mom.  It almost made her want to put it off, maybe not look so hard, but…

            People were starting to sell Christmas stuff in the stores.  And Christmas without Meagan or her mother, the idea that it might just be her and Odin… it wasn’t _bad_ , but…  It wouldn’t be _Christmas_ either, really. 

            She loved Odin, and he was unbelievably smart, but he just didn’t _get_ a lot of normal things – like birthdays, and cuddling, or movie theaters or throwing coins into a fountain, or eating so much chocolate you thought you might be sick.  Most stuff, if it was just something fun that you figured everyone knew about, it was like he’d never heard of it before… but it was usually fun to try to explain it.  He always seemed happy to play along with whatever she wanted to so, so it was easy to just _show_ him when stuff got weird, so, like… it made things a little more even? 

            Like, he took care of her, but she was taking care of him too – sometimes, he asked her to explain emotions, almost as if he was new to them, too… and it had been awesome when she got him to start playing games of make believe with her, coming up with situations and how people would react.  How they would do this or that and why… only, you know, he spent half his turns asking for more details for _why_. 

            Sometimes, everything about Odin was so hopeless and sad, despite all his awesome. 

            Sighing, she got dressed, even as she started to wonder what would happen once their search ended.  _I’ll probably have to go back to school._   She rather thought she’d just rather do without that – she was mostly sure she could graduate anyway? – but she would get to see her mom every day….

            _But would I still get to see Odin at all?_  She bit her lip. _He’ll at least visit sometimes, won’t he?_  

            Well, of course he would… but it wouldn’t be the same; nothing like this, where they had no one they answered to and all the time in the world… 

            …Going back to ‘normal’ was going to be _awful_. 

-

***

-

**Brussels** **, Belgium** **– Compound, Lower Levels**

            “Shit!” Mitchell exclaimed, pulling back from the door. 

            Lincoln blinked; despite the tone of voice, the man hadn’t been cursing – at least not in English – for a while.  “What?” 

            “This was _sealed_ , probably before the alarm tripped,” he snarled, pushing past him and racing back down the halls.  “They’re not out: they’re _upstairs_ somewhere!” 

            Lin raced after him, heart starting to race; the fact that Mitchell wasn’t talking like a creep anymore meant he might actually be worried now, and that _couldn’t_ be good.

-

***

-

**Brussels** **, Belgium** **– Compound, Main Levels**

            Somehow, it seemed like both hours and only moments before Jake was easing me out of his arms and into a sitting position against a wall, and Dorothy was pulling me into an embrace instead as she sat next to me.  The movement hurt my arm more and I cried out as my grip on the wound slipped, though hopefully quietly…  I grabbed it again a moment later; the pressure helped the pain, after the initial increase. 

            Dorothy looked terrified and at a loss, far out of place, with her designer blouse a little torn and her face dirty.  There were cleaner marks down her cheeks from tears, and her hair was all over the place. 

            Dorothy _always_ needed an anchor… and I had been just that for almost nine months now.  “Hey, Thea,” I whispered, using the new nickname, trying to calm her down.  “Don’t cry…  I’ll be okay.”  _Eventually._   I could understand Duo’s shock now, when he kept shooting Heero and the other gundam pilot kept getting up, seeming almost to not care about the pain at all. 

            “We should be able to hold here,” Jake announced after a moment.  He was in a crouch next to me, hands held loosely together.  His eyes were icy serious again, but that didn’t bother me quite so much as before.  “We’re far enough away from any particular area of import, but they’re still through here enough that they won’t use gas.  We’ll be able to go through there,” he gestured toward one wall of the room, “and wait the rest of the assault out.”  Meeting my eyes solidly, he said, “I need you to stay here for a few minutes.” 

            I blinked in confusion, surprise… then narrowed my eyes.  “Where are you going?” 

            “There’s an armory closet close to here; it’s not labeled correctly and was locked when we passed.”  Raising his brows he added, “We need a contingency plan, and more options in any event, Princess.” 

            I grit my teeth; he was back to titles, which showed his mood – I much preferred ‘Lena’.  At least it wasn’t in the mockingly deferential tone he had used when furious with my brother, but he was clearly, _formally_ , in his role as my bodyguard now… and he thought that what he was about to do was paramount. 

            He _knew_ that leaving behind the casual tone of our relationship meant that I had to listen: had to trust his judgment. 

            The pain seemed unimportant now as I let my eyes harden; he knew best, but he still answered to _me_.  “How long will it take?” I demanded as coolly as I could. 

            “Possibly less than ten minutes; fifteen max,” he returned. 

            “Make it back without any grievous injury,” I ordered. 

            An odd light passed through his eyes as he nodded curtly…  And then he was gone. 

            “Relena?” 

            And all the pain, the exhaustion, came back as if on a swift wind and I slumped against my friend.  “What?” I asked tiredly.  Oh _God_ it hurt… 

            She was silent for another moment before she made to stand up.  “I’ll see if there’s a medical kit in here,” she whispered. 

            I nodded, pulling back from her and resting my weight completely on the wall at my back… and checked my watch.  I was going to time him, to try and keep from worrying too much.  Of course, without me there to slow him down, he was capable of far more, so he would be fine… 

            There was no med kit in the room, and I waved away Dorothy’s apologies; it was hardly her fault, and I would probably be fine for a while yet; the blood was clotting fairly well, considering the gaping wound I was sporting in one side of my left tricep…  _I suppose I ought to be glad it didn’t hit the bone,_ I groused, trying and utterly failing to make light of the injury.  _At least, I don’t think it did…_   This hurt, but that would hurt on an entirely new level, I was fairly sure. 

            Not that it _didn’t_ hurt more than anything ever had before… 

            Letting out a deep breath slowly – but trying not to hiss it for the sake of Dorothy’s seemingly fragile sanity – I tried to settle myself enough to wait for the man who had easily become the closest friend – closest _person_ to me in my entire _life_ , including my parents – to return. 

            Was it unusual that I expected him to have acquired gundam pilot proportions of defensive weaponry?  I had to wonder if my estimation was right, in that regard…

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium – Compound, Upper Levels**

            Milo Thorly made sure to keep his breathing steady and quiet as he edged closer to where the wall cornered, listening for anything other than the now ambient sounds of the wailing klaxon, whistling broken vents, the sprinklers raining down in the near distance…  His hands were steady on his weapon, and like four months ago on L3-X18999, the adrenaline only made him calmer, sharper; more steady rather than jittery… David Mitchell had complimented him, even, on his reaction in real life situations. 

            He’d imagined how this base might fall, sometimes – he had even taken quite a number of mental notes that might be helpful – but he had never imagined he might be using them as a form of self-protection instead of aiding his Excellency’s entrance.  _This can’t be Po’s people…_   Their style was more distinct, deliberate, and more importantly, they strove for increased _stability_ as an end goal, not chaos. 

            He had never seriously contemplated the option that someone other than Dr. Po or General Khushrenada might gain the power to do something like this. 

            He couldn’t hear anything out of place, but that method was hardly foolproof…   _I wish I knew where Mitchell got himself to._   The dual-named man had taught him more than half of what he knew and rarely let him work alone in dangerous situations.  Unfortunately, there was no sign of Campbell either – so the only two men he could trust implicitly, that he _knew_ worked on entirely the same side as him, were entirely unavailable. 

            At the moment, he’d settle for anyone without that blue band around their arm for some back-up. 

            He wished he could _remember_ what code to punch into his handheld to get a useful connection!  Normally he had a card with all of them listed out, but apparently it was in the pocket of the jacket he _hadn’t_ grabbed after waking up to the sound of the siren, and he’d only grabbed the absolutely necessary items before dashing out the door.  _Though…_  He was positive that at least three of the combinations he put in were correct for _some_ sector of the base, but no one was picking up…  which suggested that not everyone was at their station. 

            …and he _might_ have called a supply closet once. 

            However, they couldn’t _all_ have been locked down supply closets, which meant that either a number of people were ignoring their training and racing into the chaos instead of holding the structure of command and communication in place… or that they had already been downed by the enemy faction.  The system lines required a re-entered code and thumbprint registered into your personal transmitter to work again after a system failure – if the invaders were intelligent, they were keeping a separate line of open communication on their own devices, so as not to be overheard or cut off from each other. 

            To be honest, he was relatively sure that for safety reasons, the main lines would be left unused until the Regime had a firm hold on at least two of the control rooms spread throughout the base… and possibly not even then, for the same reasons the invading force ought to have an insular system.  His transmitter, even with the little card he liked to keep, was virtually useless.  _Who the hell can I trust by voice, anyhow?_   Even if he found someone to talk to and went to join forces, it could just be an ambush.  _And who would trust me, some random sergeant, besides Mitchell or Campbell?_   Treize had quite a few more loyalists in this base, but none of them knew more than a two or three others for security purposes.  The closest he could say was that he knew Mitchell reported out to someone called something that sounded like ‘Volley’ – and Mitchell was friends with half the damn _army_ , so even having the code name even meant absolutely nothing. 

            There were still no differing sounds when he reached the twist of corridor, and he growled in frustration even as he wanted to sigh in relief.  No enemy, but no allies either, and the radio was utterly fucking _useless_.  He only knew where he was in a rather textbook manner of the floor number and what the letters said, but he had never _been_ in this area before; he was lost in every way that mattered.  He’d come upstairs because he thought that Mitchell was likely up here and heard this was the worst spot for trouble to dive into from someone who had made it back down… but his plan of going around to a different area before ascending to attack from a new angle meant absolutely nothing at this point, as he was apparently in a completely deserted wing and had not encountered anyone at all since the fifth floor. 

            The only good news so far consisted of the fact that a) he hadn’t gotten himself injured or killed, and b) whoever was attacking did _not_ have enough manpower to pull off a full attack on this stronghold.  That was the only explanation he could come up with for this completely isolated bubble he’d fallen into. 

            Picking a door more or less at random and entering as he’d been taught, looking for threats and ready to retaliate against them – even though there weren’t any to be found – he settled against the wall and dug out his radio again.  _Might as well **try** …_  After glaring at it for a moment out of sheer spite, he tapped in what he knew was at least the right prefix for somewhere on base and punched in an entirely random set of numbers to finish the eight digits before hitting enter.  Bringing it to his mouth he asked tiredly, “This is Sergeant Milo Thorly; is anyone there?  Come in, please, I’m out of my fucking _mind_ with confusion for what the hell’s happening…” 

            It wasn’t like anyone was actually going to answer.  And if someone _did_ hear and wanted to site him for language, he’d de- 

            Someone choked out a laugh on the other end, and Milo almost jumped.  _“No kidding on that one, Sergeant; I’d love some answers too…  I’ve got this guy here, but I wasn’t trained for this and he’s an ass who doesn’t want to talk.”_   There was a pause.  _“And I think he just passed out from blood loss or something anyway.”_  

            Milo couldn’t help but chuckle a little before pressing down the send on the transmitter again.  “Who is this?” he asked, genuinely curious; he didn’t think someone playing from the other side would return with a comment like that…  Whoever it was was young, and sounded a little spacey too. 

            _“Oh, right, sorry, sir, Private Hayden Polanski stationed at Gate Six, sir.  I closed up what I could, but that was only after I, er… recovered myself and my position, sir.”_

            Milo blinked a little at that jumbled mess and winced slightly; kid sounded like he was trying to think harder than he could.  “You _okay_ , Private?”  

            There was a pause where he imagined Hayden was grimacing too before he came back on.  _“Pretty sure I have a concussion, sir…  Not too sure now long it was before I came back to, other than the guy who brained me had me neat under the desk and had completely forgotten about me, before I surprised him.  Sir.”_  

            Milo winced again, hitting the button.  “That sounds like a definite _ouch_ , Hayden… calm down about the ranking.  I’m lost somewhere in the J area of the 18th floor… maybe the North wing?  I’m not sure, but it’s completely deserted and I’m a few steps beyond lost.  Any ideas?” 

            _“Sorry, Sergeant, but my views are all external, and I’ve never been up through that area…”_

            Milo sighed.  Flicking the switch that would keep an open two-way – so he didn’t have to keep hitting the button and they could interrupt each other verbally without the radios cutting them off if a button was pushed, he continued.  “Damn…  Don’t suppose you’ve had any luck with live radios?  I lost my card; I’ve been punching in combos off vague memory and hoping, here, but you’re the first I’ve managed to find, and that was just dumb luck.” 

            _“I haven’t tried,”_ Hayden admitted.  _“Not sure if it’s compromised or not… Honestly, the only reason I answered you was I don’t think they’d try sounding official enough to budge me, talking like that.”_  

            The sergeant let out a tired snort, feeling exhausted even though he knew he was fit for battle still.  “Something like that back at you, Private…  Before I move back out of this room and try to get my bearings again, what _can_ tell me?”  If nothing else, he could go back out into the labyrinth with a slightly better perception as to how far spread this was. 

            _“I don’t know what might be useful, sir…”_

            “At this point, all I know is that they have blue bands on the right arm and were mostly trying to head upwards in the compound.  Just start from when everything got weird and give me everything you’ve got – maybe I can find something useful out of the lot of it.” 

            The kid sounded a little relieved to follow the sense of logic; Milo knew from experience how hard it could be to think through a concussion.  He was actually a bit impressed – especially since it was probably a bad one, with how long he thought he might have been under. _“Alright, that sounds okay…  Oh, um, before I start, I don’t know how many people realize… The princess came in today.  Unless she left out a different gate after 17:00 hours, she’s on base somewhere.”_  

            Milo’s eyes widened.  He’d wondered why Mitchell was on base, but had assumed the colonel had had to come back for something and he had left his men under his partner’s command for the night, or that he might have been about to head back out in a few hours after taking care of something urgent – not that _Relena Peacecraft_ was currently at home and in the middle of _this_.  “ _Fuck_ ,” he muttered under his breath involuntarily.  Even if she was already evacuated and perfectly fine, if word _ever_ got out that she had been here during this attack the political impact could be astronomical: up to five or ten times worse than it would be already. 

            As it was, everyone might get more scared, and worry over the attack here.  _But if the princess was threatened…_  Relena was a far cry from Milliardo Peacecraft in the public eye, and there would a cry of pure outrage at the idea that she wasn’t kept perfectly safe at all times – unless it was some act of apparent heroism, like what had happened in Munich.  This… this would be an absolute _disaster_ once the story got out, and he could only pray that she didn’t have a single damn _bruise_ to show for it or the media and consequently the crowds might just lose it. 

            _“Sir?”_

            “No, I had no idea, but… let’s just hope her guard is doing their job, they were carefully selected.”  _Mitchell, **please** , have her halfway back to Germany by now and your side trip covered up entirely…_  “Tell me what you know, what happened to you?”  Licking his lips, he added the prompt, “Was the alarm what brought you back to?” 

            _“Um, no,”_ Hayden sounded a little flustered by that, and even let out a sort of nervous little laugh. _“I’m pretty sure I’m the one that first set off the alarm, actually…”_  

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium – Compound, Main Levels**

            It was hard to stay distracted – to not stare at my watch every passing second, my nerves winding tighter with every tick of the tiny mechanism.  Trying to keep track had _not_ been one of my better ideas today…  

            Then again, apparently, neither was coming home.  _Or_ _getting a midnight snack from the kitchens ourselves._   However much I appreciated Jake, I knew full well that I would have been safer with my full contingent of guards; that’s what they were there for, after all. 

            I wasn’t any vague sort of sociable even if I did need to be distracted, however, and I was glad that Dorothy had caught that and wasn’t trying to chatter.  I was worried about her, with the way she was staring off into nothing with practically no blood in her face, but I couldn’t say I was in any position to comfort her.  Jake had said he thought we would be safe here, but he _had_ still wanted a Plan B, and even if Dorothy was somewhat trained, we were in _far_ over her head. 

            We would both feel better once our colonel was back with us. 

            _Almost seven minutes…_   He had said he might be back by now; had he run into trouble?  I tried to keep my breathing steady, tried not to let my heart race again… my chest already ached abominably from the night’s exertion and adrenaline. 

            This felt like the war all over again, and I couldn’t help but remember the night of the school dance, first running and trying to help evacuate those stunned into inaction, screaming my lungs out in warnings and fear before finally making it outside…  Screaming at Heero in his gundam, then futilely trying to shield my head as the rubble from the building – some pieces larger than cars – came crashing down.  I had stood there, waiting to be crushed to death even though I desperately wanted to survive, trying to fight back a sob of pure terror… before I realized that the boy who had said he wanted to kill me had used his massive shield to save me instead. 

            As I had made my way to safety I hadn’t been able to stop thinking of how I had known it was the right thing to have given him an invitation, even if he had ripped it and refused to come.  I could have such silly thoughts when terrible things were happening, sometimes… 

            We had gone away from the door – Dorothy had insisted – to lean against the side of one of the big desks occupying the room.  Dully, I had thought that we might be somewhere in the maze of the reconstruction department.  _Was anyone working late tonight?_   It seemed like at least a handful always were…

            I felt vibrations running through the floor from what could only be an explosion before I registered the corresponding sound.  “Jake,” I breathed, digging up strength I wouldn’t have believed I still possessed to launch myself off the ground and race for the door.  I vaguely registered Dorothy hissing at me, maybe moving too, but I couldn’t care as I moved to see if maybe everything could be okay- 

            I managed to open the door a little before Dorothy practically tackled me.  It was more than a little strange, with her obviously avoiding my hurt arm and an adamant amount of clumsiness, but I followed the sentiment of the action; appreciated it even, on some level, even while I _really_ didn’t.  I dug my nails into the soft inside of her wrist hard and heard her gasp before I shoved her off me hard and sat up on my knees.  I only pushed the door open enough to look through out a little… 

            Whatever Dorothy wanted to think, I wasn’t _stupid_. 

            I couldn’t see any sign of the explosion, though, so I sat back on my knees, squeezing my eyes shut as another wave of pain hit, smiling a little apologetically over to Dorothy.  “Heh, sorry…”  That had been rather uncalled for, come to think of it…  She only shook her head a little at me, though, and came to sit by me again. 

-

***

-

            “Shit!” Lincoln exclaimed as he bumped against the wall hard, surprised by the shuddering vibrations that could only come from an explosion.  They had been holding the corner they’d almost been killed moving around for a while now with no sign of the three they were trying to find, though it was hard to say if that was for better or worse.  Jake was the head of their contingent for a reason.  In a technical sort of way, he and David Mitchell were partners and held the same rank, but Mitchell was far newer to it… and Miller had more experience than most lieutenant generals.  The man was a freaking jack-of-all-trades, a specialist at being whatever was necessary, but… 

            Well, everyone had their limits, and the odds in this situation were utter shit.  Even _if_ half the rumors about his off the books missions were true, Miller hadn’t ever been in this kind of situation while responsible for a helpless young woman at the same time, and Dorothy had only gone through basic. 

            If these guys were willing to play with explosives then this was a whole new level of bad. 

            And…. Mitchell was grinning fiercely.  “What?” he demanded quietly. 

            “Maybe they weren’t in on it, or the timing just surprised them…”  He chortled.  “But I’d say those guys look _awful_ unsure of themselves after that…” 

            _…Colonel Mitchell really needs to be instructed on how to deliver ‘good news.’_

-

***

-

            When I felt the second explosion, I was already at the door.  It rocked me harder, though whether that was because of its strength or my own growing weakness, I couldn’t say.  I could hear yelling – thankfully no screaming – from a ways away, moving away…  I waited until that seemed to settle before reaching for the slightly open door with my good hand, then bit back a yelp as there was a third, then fourth awful noise, and the sprinklers above me and in the hall started to rain down in response. 

            _This is so **ridiculous**._   I’d already been shot, I hardly needed to catch a cold too, there was _no fire here_.  My hand ached; I supposed the door had tried to slam back shut on it?  But it hardly seemed to compare.  Even more curious than before, I pushed the door open enough to look back out even as I shivered, the water beginning to soak through my clothes. 

            There was no fire there either, like I’d thought, and the yelling was more distant… but I could see puffs of white smoke down at the far end of the hall, maybe one hundred yards away.  No one seemed to be close… though the screeching sirens might be covering the noise, come to think of it. 

            Dorothy was tugging at my jacket, trying to coax me into retreating back into the room, but it had been over ten minutes now, and even while some part of me was frightened, I was too determined to let that cow me.  Besides, if everyone had moved off to investigate the explosions, then- 

            _Boots._   Despite myself, I shrank back a little, trying to remember if Jake had been wearing his or not; if this might be someone else investigating.  _What a silly question,_ I scolded myself a moment later.  The only time I had seen the man _not_ wearing his combat boots was directly before he went to bed or right after he woke. 

            Of course, that didn’t mean anything either – almost every soldier in this base wore boots constantly, in or out of uniform.  I retreated enough so that it was a bare slit to peek out through, trying to see the silhouette once he came near enough, to assuage my doubts. 

            However, I didn’t see anything when that fast step suddenly came to a stop, and I held my breath, waiting… 

            A radio fuzzed in… a man’s voice asking questions, and a quick retort that sounded like negative, only there was no sound of boots again… 

            _Oh God._   I sagged against the wall by the door, shaking, closing my eyes.  That was _not_ Jake… that could be _anyone_ standing out there.  Swallowing, I checked my watch again.  _Almost twelve minutes._  

            _Has it really only been less than thirty seconds since the last explosion?_

            My eyes snapped back open at the sound of another boot moving, as my ears had already begun to tune out the sound of the water…  He was still out there.  _There’s nothing here for you to see,_ I swore to myself as I closed my eyes again, gripping Dorothy’s hand tightly when it found its way into my lap.  _Nothing worth investigating…  Just leave, nothing extraordinary about this corridor…_  

            A distant boom sounded further away, and I couldn’t help but let out a relieved breath as I heard him mutter what was likely a curse and spin on heel to racing away, the water everywhere making his movements more obvious.  I relaxed a little more as I listened to the beat of his boots begin to fade… and stop, suddenly. 

            “Sir?” he sounded a little confused.  It was impossible to hear more than a handful of words…  Someone was out there with him that I hadn’t heard approach. 

            _They’re all the way down at the end of the hall,_ I decided, leaning forward just another hair. 

            It was still garbled, but I managed hear quite a lot of the ending conversation.  “See if you can clear out this sector for a while, with all the bombs being set off it’s not worth it – we can work out what the hell happened later.  There might be more, and some of them might be more violent; these ones already were armed like warning shots.” 

            “Shit…” 

            “Right, so get out of he-” 

            Another massive roar of explosion cut him off while punctuating his point, and both ran. 

            I found myself swallowing again, unsure what to make of the explosions anymore… not that I had known what to think of them before.  Was this area a bad idea after all?  When Jake came back, were we going to have to dash off to a different abused corner of the base to hide and wait out the insanity?  _Could we make it that far?_   And Jake…  I checked my watch; it had been twelve and a half minutes, nearly.  _Is he going to make it back?_   The idea hurt deep in my chest, hurt almost as bad as it had when I watched my father die…  Had he died out there trying to find a better way to keep me safe? 

            I couldn’t see fire, but I could see the light of it now, reflecting against the white of the corridor halls.  It was a kind of buttery yellow glow… could the sprinklers handle it, or would Dorothy and I have to run soon and presume the worst of our friend? 

            _He **has** to make it back…_  

            “He will,” Dorothy whispered fiercely behind me; apparently I’d spoken aloud.  I nodded a little, unable to conjure up a smile I couldn’t believe in- 

            Someone was walking through the flooded hall. 

            Dorothy seemed not to have heard it yet and was rubbing her hand over my back in reassuring circles.  The sprinklers had turned off, so why couldn’t the other woman _hear_ that?  Wanting to scream from the again rising tension, feeling like I’d been wrung out one too many times tonight already, I slapped Dorothy’s hands away as I made to stand… 

            …And found myself falling against the door instead. 

            Frantic, I tried to catch myself on the doorframe, but while one arm managed, the other was entirely out of commission, and I only did it halfway and bumped the door open by almost a foot, headfirst – though still kneeling on the ground so not at head height, at least. 

            It was hard to see any details; the lighting made it so that he was made entirely of shadows.  Some kind of massive rifle was slung over one shoulder, a slew of weapons over the other, and more around his chest and waist and even trailing onto one leg…  He had a handgun in one hand and something that looked like a tool in the other, and was walking at a calm pace ever so quietly, the soft swish of moving water being the only sound. 

            In the dark of the hall and spinning red emergency lights, the distant glow of the fire casting him in dark relief, hair splayed wildly, covered in weaponry and that silent confidence in his walk…  “Relena.”  His tone so empty, cold and even… 

            For one beautiful, horrifying moment…  I could have sworn it was Heero. 

            He crouched down and met my eyes… such a deep blue, but no, a different shade… I ran my hand through that unruly mop of damp hair – so blonde, not brown… 

            He frowned, and the ice in his eyes melted a little to show concern.  “Lena?” 

            I was crying, but I wasn’t sure why… if it was because I was really looking into my friend’s face and he was safe and with me again… or if it was because he wasn’t _Heero_ …  And I always tried desperately to forget how I missed Heero. 

            “You’re back,” I managed to choke out, exhaustion dragging me down again as I leaned back against the wall.  _Jake back and Heero forever lost…_   Once I was in a high enough position of power, the arrest warrants and bounties would immediately be canceled, but who was to say if they had survived?  You could only cheat death so many times… 

            I could only cry harder as Jake handed Dorothy everything that was in his hands so he could gently pull me into an embrace.  It was so bizarre, him holding me like this when I had so wanted it before, during the war, but this _wasn’t_ **_him_** , but at the same time it _was_ Jake…  And being held _hurt_ , and made me sob even more desperately… 

            …but at the same time…  I closed my eyes and buried my face in his shoulder, realizing I was shivering as hard as I was crying, fisting the material of his shirt with my good hand.  This was so… _nice_ , somehow.  Jake was _here_ for me, and not confusing, so steadfast and dependable, and such a good, true friend… 

            And somehow, thinking what I already knew made everything… _okay_ again. 

            Letting out a shaky breath, I quietly asked him, “So what do we do now?  Is it safe here, with the explosions?” 

            He let out a breath of air against my hair that sounded like a chuckle.  “I set the explosions, to lure attention away – that was what took so much time, tying and untying that blue band to go through groups.”  I could almost feel him smile appreciatively when I let out my own amused breath.  _Master planning everything, huh?_   Definitely much better than everything the boys managed to do before Quatre pulled them together for _Libra_.  Though it was interesting that he didn’t consider any men fighting for our side… but then, with this much inside work, who knew who was loyal?  _Of course he wouldn’t trust anyone else…_   My brother and my other guards were probably the only ones immune to his paranoia. 

            Shifting slightly against me, he added, “We need to move through to that other room…  I got the emergency med and survival kits too.  We’ll see if we can get you warm, so you don’t get any deeper into shoc-” 

            “Oh my God!” Dorothy exclaimed suddenly as Jake picked me back up, so we both turned to look… at…yellow…dangling from her hand by little charms… 

            I groaned as Jake let out a low, disbelieving chuckle.  She… had her cell phone. 

            “Why didn’t any of us think of that?” I asked tiredly.  Looking back up to Jake, I noted, “We were supposed be better about that after Munich, weren’t we?” 

            “She normally carries her phone in that glittering sack of pleather,” he told me in a dry tone, stooping to bring an arm around the back of my knees and pick me up again.  “She didn’t have that, so I assumed.  Ours are in your suite.” 

            “It’s not a glittering sack of pleather,” Dorothy protested as she stood and made to follow us. 

            “Right, you call it a ‘purse’, don’t you?” 

            “It happens to be a Katherine Lianne clutch,” the woman informed us primly. 

            I couldn’t help but smile, knowing they were bantering in part to try to soothe my nerves.  And frankly, Dorothy’s latest purse _was_ beyond hideous… and a nicely distracting topic. 

            “I think I know where you messed up,” I noted to Jake, loud enough that Dorothy could hear.  “It’s a glittering sac of _leather_ with a designer name on it.”  There was a reason I was very glad Dorothy had never taken it upon herself to shop for me… 

            “So glad I’ll never find myself buying you something that could be used to lure magpies,” Jake quipped back. 

            I smiled a little, even though it turned into a grimace when he took another step and jolted my arm.  “I _like_ my purse…  And my pockets.” 

            “Your purse is for every day humdrum,” Dorothy protested, apparently deciding to ignore our further attack on her fashion choices.  “What if you have to wear a dress?  You can’t take the one you have.” 

            Another jolting step.  “Thea,” I muttered through gritted teeth.  “I have a minimum of four bodyguards at any given point of the day…  If I really need to bring fresh lipstick or liner, or even a small compact as well as any money, it can all go it _their_ pockets.” 

            Dorothy huffed at me, but Jake chuckled.  “She has a point,” he added as he moved us through the doorway into the room he had indicated at first, and ooh… it was dry!  Jake set me back down and made some note about securing the door before moving back out into the office.  This was some kind of storage room, though it had carpeting.  Pulling my knees to my chest and leaning forward as much as I could without making my arm scream more, I rubbed at my legs with my good hand, trying warm them up, and soon enough Dorothy was helping me.  When Jake came back in and noted that the door was completely secure against entry, he revealed that the ‘survival pack’ included a blanket and one of those extreme absorption towels, along with a change of military issue clothes, water, a slew of different rations, and quite a number of other things. 

            It wasn’t until I was entirely dry – with the exception of my hair – and dressed in long johns and fatigues, my wound bandaged tightly, that I realized Dorothy was in awful shape as well and tried to protest…  Only to be told that I was in shock and that they could handle being miserable for a bit while I ‘couldn’t risk it after the trauma and blood loss’.  When I still tried to argue, Jake had shaken his head and stripped out of his damp fatigue shirt to offer Dorothy the long-sleeved he had on as a second layer over his tank top – then politely turned the other way so that she could try to dry herself off as much as possible.  She looked odd in a man’s too large shirt, especially with her tendency to follow fashion’s every step and dance, but she seemed grateful for it, pulling her wet hair up into a thick bun at the back of her head with pens from the previous room.  Her pants were still soaked completely through, though, so we eventually talked her into taking them off and just keeping the blanket wrapped around her legs. 

            So it wasn’t until we were all somewhat warm, myself finding no shame whatsoever at sitting in Jake’s lap with my head dropped against his chest to share warmth, Dorothy tucked against his other side and her feet in his lap by mine to get warm, that the subject of the phone came up again. 

            “So…”  Dorothy was holding it up by the charms again, letting the tiny machine swing back and forth by the strings.  “Who should we call?” 

-

***

-

            “What?” 

            Mitchell had tilted his head to one side, and so far that meant he was considering some new aspect of what was happening.  They had been flushed out of one area like everyone else with explosives, but that was still a complete unknown, and this was far from a safe area to be in… 

            “My phone’s vibrating,” he answered, sounding perplexed. 

            “Uh…”  That was a little weird.  And inconvenient.  _Shit!_   “Incoming,” Lincoln snapped, making the man focus back on the fight starting around them for what felt like the fiftieth time that night. 

-

***

-

            Jake sighed.  “He’s not answering.  He probably doesn’t even have it…  We’ll try again later.  If you can stomach it you should try to eat some of this, and Relena, drink all the water if you can…  If nothing else, the morphine I gave you will probably make you sleep soon, but you’ll feel better on it if there’s something in your stomach.” 

            She blinked at him, a bit cutely, actually, and frowned.  “You drugged me?” she asked, fighting a sudden yawn. 

            “You needed it,” he assured her.  “It’s pretty standard procedure: you get shot, you get a shot of morphine.  It makes the world a whole lot better of a place.”  He shook his head a little and looked over to Dorothy to explain, “We’ll just stay here and try to keep warm for a while, then call back out in maybe two hours, or wait for someone to call us first.  Could you bring over the ration stuff for us to pick through, though?” 

            The blonde woman rolled her eyes even as she grinned at him before moving to do as he asked.  In that time, Relena leaned back to study his face.  “What?” Jake asked gently.  She had truthfully been in some stage of shock since the first sign of true violence, progressively getting deeper, but at least now she seemed like she was starting to recover from it…  He’d been more than a little worried by how she was acting when he came back, terrified he was going to have to leave the haven he’d set up for them and get her straight to a doctor, but she’d calmed down, and they had gotten her warm.  The office had its own thermostat that he’d set to the highest heat, with a good vent coming in here, blowing good, hot air… She should be fine until it was safe to move again – or better yet, until they could get help come to _them_ once this attack was over with. 

            _What **moron** thought they could actually take down the Brussels compound, anyway?  _

            “You’re back,” Relena repeated softly, resting all her weight against his chest.  The warmth she gave off was more than welcome after the cold from the sprinklers that he’d mostly managed to stay dry through, but it wasn’t good if she was this out of it still…  _Though, actually, this might be the morphine talking now._  

            “You came back,” she said again.  “You’re not going to leave…  Heero would have left by now.” 

            He watched her a little more carefully at that and tightened his hold around her ribs in a hug.  _Old trauma from the war flared up,_ he mused.  _I should have realized._   On the bright side, though, she wasn’t delusional about what _had_ happened, nor had it seemed to really stall her unnaturally, stop her regular speech patterns…  And PTSD involvement probably meant the physical end of her going into shock wasn’t as severe as it looked like.  That was good.  “I’m not going anywhere,” he assured her. 

            He wasn’t sure how the other pilots treated her beyond wild rumors on all counts and a few insane stories from Lu, but Heero Yuy _had_ gotten her into some terrifying situations, and rarely helped her get back out beyond keeping her alive.  _Though in all fairness, it was Relena’s willfulness that started her game of following Yuy and the trouble he got into, and it probably took all the boy could do to keep her off the casualty list each time._  

            Considering 01’s style of fighting and sabotage, it wasn’t exactly a leap to say that ‘delicate handling’ had never been a part of his training.  Or ‘subtlety’, or even ‘partway’.  Yuy was efficient and brutal, and while Jake could completely understand, having lived by those terms himself for more than a few years, it was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to true skill.  Efficiency was all fine and good, but you needed _finesse_ too – needed to learn a little more fine control and dexterity so you could attack a base with a minimal loss of innocents, instead of just blowing the whole thing to dust. 

            “I know,” she whispered back, closing her eyes.  “You just… earlier… you were acting just like him, for a while, so cold…  It took me forever to realize why it was so familiar.  Eyes, language, no emotions… predator’s grace and proficiency.” 

            He blinked.  _Really?_   It was also interesting that her vocabulary seemed to _expand_ when she was out of her skull – Zechs did the same shit, so nature or nurture, seriously – but… he hadn’t expected that comparison.  Over the years he’d gathered his ‘battle persona’ was an unusual style, though far from unheard of.  _Then again, considering how Yuy calmly stepped out of his suit and hit the self-destruct, it makes a sort of sense that he swings the same sort of emotional shutdown._  

            “Don’t worry about it,” he told her easily.  “It’s just a kind of focus, is all… a frame of mind that makes it all easier to do, keeps me from making mistakes.”  He generally called it ‘professionalism,’ but he didn’t think his princess would appreciate that viewpoint at the moment.  If she still wanted to know about it later, they could talk, but for now it was good to know that if he did it he was going to remind her of Heero Yuy.  _That’s why she was acting so odd after she spotted me; she must’ve been trying to shake off the memories overlaying her reality_. 

            That… was frustrating, but there wasn’t anything he could really do about it; hopefully now that she knew he did it too, she’d cope better the next time he needed to rely on his uncle’s lessons. 

            Dorothy handed her a bottle of water which she respectfully tried to drink, but barely got into it before passing out.  It wasn’t too long before the other woman decided sleep was a good idea too, and soon he was left as the only one to keep watch…  And that was how he liked it generally, so it wasn’t a bad way to kill time in this relative safety until they could make contact.  With everything happening he wasn’t entirely sure who he trusted beyond David, and with Relena’s safety in limbo, he wasn’t going to take a chance calling anyone else.

-

***

-

**November 24 th 197 – Friday – Early Morning – Brussels** **, Belgium** **– Upper Levels – Control Room #3**

            It had taken hours to secure the vital areas and prevent what damage they could.  Pure force of will was the only thing keeping Milliardo from collapsing and immediately falling asleep… but he could _not_ afford that great a sign of weakness.  _I just need to wrap this up as quickly as possible, make sense of what’s available, and play it down for the media once they arrive… then it won’t be strange to need sleep._   Plenty of the men were tired – wanting to sleep wouldn’t be strange… he just had to wait until everything critical was under control. 

            He was positive that they had the majority of the attackers sequestered in cells.  Unfortunately, however, it would be nearly impossible to prove how many remained.  A few would likely be caught in compromising situations or would have eyewitness accounts damning them, but others would slip unnoticed through the security checks, indistinguishable from loyal personnel. 

            _We got lucky._   It had been relatively easy to face what enemies had entered the compound as it happened, but if that kid with absolute respect for duct tape hadn’t woken up and slammed all the gates down against more intruders, it might have been a different story.  Once they realized they weren’t going to be let in, the men and machines outside had made a quick retreat and were long gone by the time there was the time and resources to actually go after them. 

            There was, at this point, no sign whatsoever of Relena or Dorothy, which hopefully meant that Miller had managed to evacuate them.  It would be a small mercy, but- 

            Mitchell stormed into the makeshift meeting in the control room holding up his cell.  “Colonel Miller is on Level 4 in Reconstruction with the princess and Romefeller heiress, holding out in the back closet of an office.  They need clean clothes for the heiress and medical assistance for Miss Peacecraft; they controlled the bleeding, but she’s had a bullet in her arm since about 2300 hours and needs surgery.” 

            And that killed any chance of this being kept somewhat quiet. 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? There's a lot of information dropped this chapter, and just... trauma. Is it bad that I kinda enjoy writing situations where people are frankly kinda out of their minds?


	35. Alternate View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm, surprisingly, is often when heroes truly come into their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait! Here's Ch. 35, all 44 pages (27,000+ words) of it. The edits here consist of grammar, and a little bit of extra detail from David, Adam, and Jake compared to the original, but nothing too critical. Overall, though, this chapter has a lot of information (hence the length) and covers some final points of critical development before everything hits the fan. 
> 
>  
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> \---------------------------------------------------------------------------
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>  
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> All notation of Brussels will become vague again, at least so long as they’re on base; it will note if the characters are in the city instead of the compound, but as before, feel free to assume that “Brussels” refers to the Brussels compound and more detail will be given from there. 
> 
> Additionally, there’s a lot of reference to Wufei’s Episode Zero in this one, though it shouldn’t require knowledge of that to understand.

**-**

_**Alternate View** _

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-  
**

**November 26 th 197 – Sunday – Brussels** **, Belgium**

            Dorothy jumped as the door to Relena’s suite slammed open, admitting the princess and her guards.  _Correction; admitting the absolutely **livid** princess and her Jake. _  The rest of the boys did not cross the threshold.  They rarely came into the room, at least en masse, while at the home compound.  Jake took a moment to signal something to them before closing the door, but his face was set in a sort of worried grimace. 

            _This can’t be good._   “Whatever happened?”  _What was it they had gone to do again?_   Frowning, she realized the thought simply wasn’t there.  _I really ought to have paid more attention…_  

            Relena turned a glower on the heiress that made her honestly want to back away.  _Exactly when did our little pacifist become so very **fierce**?_  

            “My brother,” she began in a low hiss, “is a single-minded _moron_.” 

            Dorothy bit back her first response – which was to ask if her liege had only just noticed – and instead looked to Jake, hoping for a better explanation. 

            “He’s not clearing her to continue the tour,” Jake noted succinctly, his tone a little too reminiscent of the other night – only his eyes were flinty instead of cold and analytical. 

            “It’s going to cause an even _greater_ panic!” Relena snarled, though she was turned away from them, focusing her tirade on the dining table instead of her friends.  “Not to _mention_ the rumors that will count more against _him_ than anything, saying I don’t really have any control!”  She began pacing then, gesturing with her good arm as she continued to rage at a more muted tone, so that it was only possible to pick up every third word. 

            In one easy motion Jake dropped onto the couch beside Dorothy, and she offered him a sympathetic look – to which he rolled his eyes a little – before focusing back on the girl she had pledged herself to.  While the princess had quickly bounced back from the shock of the attack and was making a speedy recovery, it would be some time before she was able to leave off the heavy bandaging and sling on her left arm.  It looked more serious than it was as the bullet had not hit bone, only torn through the tricep of her arm, but if Milliardo was using it as an excuse to ground her now… 

            Well, they were already witnessing the beginning of the eruption. 

            Not that she could be blamed; her worries were more than valid.  The food shortage already had everyone on edge, and with the rumors of unrest very forcibly proven, they would have had problems even if Relena had stayed in Germany.  Unfortunately, her withdrawal to Brussels had been seen by some as an order that came from Milliardo despite the man not knowing his sister was returning until she arrived on the premises, and from there bloomed speculation that Milliardo had known the attack was coming and had wanted to use his far more popular sister as a shield against it. 

            Never mind the fact that, if that had been his intent, the public would have had full knowledge of the princess’ return instead of the utmost secrecy she had insisted on; if pressed they would probably try to insist that Milliardo believed himself so cleverly tricky that he would twist his plots that far despite the lack of benefit.  _When you have a history of telling everyone it’s logical to drop a battleship on the planet, it’s hardly any surprise that no one trusts you to be sensible, after all._  

            The remainder who _did_ have some sense, however, had latched onto the detail that, whatever their power, it evidently wasn’t enough to keep the princess safe… while Milliardo had exited the affair with no new scratches to show.  It didn’t matter that that had merely been luck.  Relena was, by all apparent evidence, not even safe in her own home fortress.  That was a powerful message being sent out… 

            Especially since Relena had yet to be seen by the public eye since the attack – leading to rumors that her condition was far more serious than reported.  And now Milliardo had decided not to allow her to continue the tour a few days late, as she had intended?  _Is he worried about another attack on her, if he lets her out of sight?_  

            Jake had bristled at the very idea of his loyalty being questioned; and as he had handpicked all of the men on his guard, he had taken Milliardo’s request to question his men rather personally.  Yesterday he’d even told the prince as much with _quite_ an audience, outright refusing and citing where each of his men had been at what time – which was helped by the fact that the majority had been protecting the _elder_ Peacecraft sibling as he took back control of his stronghold. 

            _Is it a point to Relena or Jake that he won that argument?_   Looking between them – Relena was still pacing ardently and Jake, having pulled his laptop out from under the couch, had begun to type industriously, neither even glancing at her as they plotted – she had to ask herself:   _Is there a difference?_   Between the two of them, there was no doubt that a counterattack was soon coming… and she began to wonder if she could raise from her spot on the couch without attracting attention. 

            This was all very well and good, except that she had no idea what to do to help…  So maybe she would just go back to her room, or perhaps into the city, and tell them to call her once they had something for her to finish…  

            Both glanced at her when she stood, but didn’t pay her any more mind than that as she made her way out. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            Karina brushed her hair out of her eyes as she followed the sound of her little girl boiling over with laughter in the next room.  She’d woken up later than usual, and apparently someone had gathered up Renee so that she _could_ sleep in.  What had been weird was that Luc was out of bed; he’d been working the graveyard shift lately, though, so even if he was up he shouldn’t be too energetic…  Yet it _was_ him bouncing and tickling the baby so she squealed with delight, despite the fact that it was only eleven in the morning and he had come back in at five. 

            Well, she was fairly sure he had; she barely woke up when he slid into bed anymore 

            They both noticed her almost immediately, and Luc gave her one of his dazzling smiles while Renee squealed again and reached towards her around her father’s arms, starting to incoherently babble, “Mamamamamamamamamamamamama!”

            Unable to help her own smile, she settled the blanket she had over her shoulders a little better so she could reach out and take the nearly six-month-old from her husband, bracing her against her stomach; she could almost sit up on the floor by herself now, so it was easy enough for her to stay there, trying to wrap her legs around your waist.  “Good morning, you pretty little thing,” she greeted, rubbing noses with her so she’d giggle again and pat her little hands on her mother’s shoulders, tilting her face up so Rina could do it again. 

            Dear Lord, but she loved this child… _her_ child, who somehow was keeping everyone happy even as the world outside got scarier by the day.  They were safe, and none of the economy mattered to little Renee so long as she was fed and loved… and they had already made sure they had more than enough food to make it through winter – though they had always stockpiled enough to be okay for at least a month even before the word of the food crisis came.  And even if they _did_ run low, their little bit of cheer and hope came first by everyone’s standard… not that she ate much of anything, now that she had started to eat. 

            Amusingly enough, it was Chaos who was incredibly focused on the tiny booklets on what babies ate or needed, or what ‘schedule’ kids followed on when they learned to do what – he kept saying she was advanced, or was suggesting this or that.  He was so overly worried about it…  _Honestly, he needs to calm down._   People had been raising babies just fine for thousands of years – it couldn’t be _that_ easy to mess up. 

            Almost as if reading her mind, Luc said, “I’m taking her in for shots today; Kay has a point about that part, at least.” 

            Karina frowned.  She certainly wasn’t against the idea, but was very much of the opinion that Chaos – no, Kasey now, Kay – was overreacting about the necessity of it when they needed to be careful with money.  Vaccinations cost a _lot_. 

            Before she could argue, though, Luc went on with, “He’s paying for most of it himself, Rina… and the idea of her not getting them scares him senseless.  He’s _seen_ what some kids catch because they never had the cash for the shots, and he just about had a meltdown about it a couple days ago trying to explain it to me, and…”  He grimaced and shook himself a little before continuing.  “Even if there’s a fair chance she’d be fine, I don’t want to take it if we don’t have to, Rina.  That, and if things go much further downhill, sickness is going to start getting around more, and even if we don’t take her out in it, someone might bring it into the Den, there’s just so many of us here who can either catch something or be a carrier…  Kay’s survived an all-out plague before, so even if he’s a little overboard, I’d rather be paranoid with him this time for Nee’s sake.” 

            “A _plague_?” she asked incredulously, drawing Renee closer to her chest. 

            Her husband shook his head a little again.  “One of the big L2 ones, that made it through several full colony _clusters_ before they quarantined it.  I remember seeing the broadcasts about it when I was a kid… I suppose you’re too young to have been interested in the news back then.  There was eventually a cure for it, but it was expensive enough that no one Kay was around could have dreamt of getting it.  But even without him going into it, I remember the horror stories getting out about the areas that had been cordoned off for quarantine…  He was _in_ all that, apparently one of the five percent with a natural immunity, and smart enough to keep the kids in his crew from most chances at infection so they mostly survived it.  But apparently he lost a few anyway…” 

            He closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath this time, trying to not get worked up.  “I _know_ it’s not that bad out there, and it shouldn’t happen here or anything, but I can’t imagine what it would feel like to lose _any_ of us, let alone my _daughter_ , so…”  It was obvious he was trying to keep from crying all of a sudden, taking pauses to clear his voice and looking up at the ceiling with his eyes shut.  “So I’m humoring him, okay?” 

            Rina nodded a little, trying to imagine and finding it too terrible to really get her head around as she stepped forward to cuddle up against his chest.  Renee looked confused, and was patting at Luc’s chest and babbling softly at him.  Not sure what to say, she finally admitted, “I had no idea he’d been through something like that.” 

            Luc let out a morbid chuckle.  “You never figured out who he used to be?” he asked, suddenly, looking down at her.  His eyes were still glossy, but they didn’t look like tears would fall anymore.  She looked around to see if anyone else was around – they were alone – before shaking her head.  Luc shook his a little too as he touched the baby’s cheek to convince her he was okay.  “Shov’s the one who really put it together, back when Hilde was here, but he practically told me when we were out to rescue you from the Slingers… I think it was to try to calm me down, really.”  Biting one lip, he asked, “He told you he was raised in a church, right?” 

            “For a few years,” she corrected.  “He was just on the street until he was seven or eight, in someone’s crew, he said…” 

“He started leading that crew after the plague, two years before going there,” Luc corrected right back.  He blew out a breath.  “So I’m guessing he didn’t mention that he stopped living at the church because the Alliance firebombed it, and he was the only one not home so he was the only one who survived?” 

            “What?”  She felt like the breath had been knocked out of her. 

            “He does like to sugarcoat things, given half a chance,” he noted in a tired sort of tone.  “You probably remember hearing about that, they would have talked about it in school: The Maxwell Church Tragedy?  Over two hundred dead?” 

            “Oh my God…” she breathed, wanting to disbelieve, but the way he was about the church made more sense, if he hadn’t ever _wanted_ to leave…  And then it clicked.  “ _Maxwell_?” she whispered hoarsely.  _Hilde Schbeiker called him Duo…_   “Oh my God.” 

            Luc’s chuckle was, again, not terrible humorous.  “Yeah…  Makes a lot of sense once you stop and think about it, huh?”  He sighed and reached to take Renee back, and she let him.  “Not that it matters; it just seemed weird that you didn’t already know, when Shov and ‘Liss and I did.  Either way, I’m taking Nee to the doctor today for her shots, and that’s one less thing to think about.” 

            Karina shook her head.  “You have work tonight, you need to sleep.  I’ll take her.” 

            He grinned.  “No work tonight!  Found out yesterday; I got switched back to midday through swing shift, starting tomorrow.  I slept for a little while, but I need to try to stay awake and get my schedule right.”  He smiled brightly again, finally getting his mind back off Kay’s horrors.  “I’m so glad that’s done with for now… it’s a little more cash, but I’m not sure it’s really enough more to be worth it – felt like I was the only one alive when I got home sometimes, and then most people were gone by the time I got up…  It was just awful.” 

            She nodded; he’d mentioned his feelings about it a couple times, and other than having to rearrange who had Renee when, it sounded great.  They could actually get some time together now; they’d been more than a little short on that in the last month.  And, actually… that time was exactly what they had right then.  Smiling up at him, she said, “Well, I say we celebrate!  Everyone else is upstairs, right?”  There really wasn’t any reason to be upset… everything was okay now, _Kay_ was okay now even if he used to be Duo Maxwell…  And she really needed to feed Renee before she started yelling that she was hungry.  It was a wonder she wasn’t already. 

            “I fed Nee some of the mash-up we have for her in the fridge,” her husband added as he started up the stairs ahead of her.  “But she probably wants some milk too, by now… Her appetite’s good.”  Smiling broadly at the baby and bouncing her a bit, added, “Yes it is, huh baby?  Of course it is.” 

            Rina grinned as she raced up after him, having stopped when he spoke.  It was _nice_ having Luc wake up before her. 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium**

            “Oh, hello, David,” Relena greeted tiredly as the colonel came into her suite.  Glancing at the clock, she frowned.  “You’re earlier than usual.” 

            “Well, about that…”  He bit his lip, glancing the sheaf of papers in one hand.  “I’m being pulled off your guard.  Not tonight or anything,” he quickly assured her.  “But, uh… soon, I guess.” 

            Jake was frowning as well, but then his face smoothed and he began to grin.  “Of course… after Thursday night, that would make sense, _finally_!” 

            “What?” Relena asked.  It had been a long day, though she had finally managed to arrange a press conference for late tomorrow morning, at least.  She had just been about to have a nap; she had already taken her painkillers for the afternoon, and the drowsiness side effect was… confounding. 

            “The Strike Force!” Jake exclaimed, grinning broadly.  He turned to Mitchell.  “That’s it, isn’t it?”  When his friend nodded, looking a little embarrassed, Jake cackled and got up to congratulate him. 

            _The Strike Force… of course._   The group that had attacked a few nights ago was now confirmed as having nothing to do with Po’s group, and the attack had made it abundantly clear that something more focal needed to be done about the smaller uprisings.  They had talked about it a great deal before RLTT had contacted her – before she’d even begun to befriend Jake, and periodically since then – but more out of reference than anything.  They had decided that there was no way it could happen unless something happened to scare the higher ups enough to force her brother’s hand, and, well… 

            _At least something good came out of that night._  

            The two of them probably wanted to get started working on that, and she wasn’t of much use with her head so far gone on exhaustion and opiates.  Standing, she announced, “Well, I think I need to lay down again for a little while.”  Smiling at David she moved over to hug him, but stopped herself – that would _hurt_ right now, painkillers or no.  He frowned at her hesitation, but he gestured at her sling and made a silly wave motion at him, forcing a little extra cheer into her voice before adding, “Congratulations!  It seems like years ago that Jake was telling me you’d be perfect for leading it, if we could just get it to form up in the first place.” 

            Mitchell grinned back at her.  “Thanks.”  Pursing his lips a little in thought, he came closer and gently wrapped one arm around her good side and shifted her center off balance slightly in an invitation to drop her weight against him.  Tentatively, she followed his lead, and… Well, it wasn’t _quite_ a hug, because it was almost entirely one-sided, but it was still nice, and she couldn’t help but let out a puff of air in relief. 

            “Bad day?” he asked sympathetically. 

            “I’m just tired,” she admitted, relaxing against him almost completely.  “You don’t realize how much you move until it hurts every time you try to do even the littlest thing.”  It was so _frustrating_. 

            “Mm,” he hummed in an agreeing way, rubbing her back.  “I hear you.  It’ll pass, though, and sooner than you might think, since you’re getting Remalene.” 

            “You’re familiar with it?” she asked, curiosity sparking her sluggish brain a bit. 

            “Eh, I think most soldiers are,” David admitted easily, resting his hand on her good shoulder and taking a cautious step back.  When he was sure Relena had her balance back, he let go entirely.  “I mean, if you can afford it, who _wouldn’t_ want to recover in half the time or less?  The enlisted don’t always get approval, but usually you want officers back in the field ASAP.”  His smile down at her was easy.  “But you still do most of your healing when you’re asleep even with the drug assist, so if you’re feeling it, napping is a good idea.” 

            Jake had said as much as soon as they’d gotten home from the hospital, though with less detail – possibly because she was starting to nod off again in the middle of the conversation.  “That makes sense,” she agreed, still frustrated, but resigned.  “I’ll see you tonight?” 

            “Absolutely,” David reassured her.  “The charter’s still being written, and then there’s recruitment and a million other things to sort out before it actually happens, so I’m still with you at least through December, maybe until February.” 

            “Aa,” she acknowledged with a nod, yawning and turning towards her bedroom. 

            “When do you want me to wake you up?” Jake asked, taking the sheaf of papers from David and starting to flip through them. 

            She yawned _again_ , and couldn’t help but grouse that this was some kind of karmic debt for last month’s insomnia.  At the same time, though, the boys weren’t _wrong_ , and the medication made her drowsy enough that even if they were, it was a moot point.  “If I’m not back up already after three hours, go ahead,” she decided.  With the way she’d noticed strange dreams increased with the opiates she had been put on, it was far more pleasant to be woken by another person than an alarm. 

            Also, trying to describe her dreams to Jake when she woke up was usually hilarious enough to work as a form of stress relief, even as he helped her through her wretchedly unpleasant her physical therapy. 

            “Will do,” Jake agreed with a grin before starting to organize the papers into piles on the coffee table – he never used the proper table for work unless she already was.  “Sleep well, Lena.” 

            Mitchell chorused him, though he didn’t look up from where he was rearranging what the blonde had already put down and trying to steal the rest of them back, smacking at his hands. 

            Shaking her head a little at their antics, she nodded a thanks that neither of them could see and went to crawl into bed. 

-

***

-

**China**

            “What now?” Yu Zi asked in a bored tone, resting her weight against the back of the couch. 

            Wufei didn’t bother to glance back at the sullen girl.  She would either come to understand or she wouldn’t; there was little point in arguing when she lacked true comprehension.  Kailì had managed to quickly gain favor with the newly rising governing system of southern China, and therefore had shielded his family from the worst of what came after Libra, to the point that his children felt little difference in their lives from before and after the catastrophic event. 

            In any case, his coworker was a good father and that meant Wufei didn’t have to interact with Yu Zi in order for her to learn.  “The common man over there is nervous,” he began, sitting forward and turning to look her in the eye over the back of the couch.  “Scared, even, and scared people do stupid things. 

            “That was already the case before this big news blow,” he added, giving Yu Zi a level look in return for her annoyed one, saying he knew full well she had been about to interrupt.  “Now it’s turning into outright panic in some areas, where other people who thought they were untouchable are taking the brunt of the prince’s newfound fear.  Instead of playing at invincibility and using his win at Brussels as an intimidation tactic, however, he’s breaking down the standing order to find the disloyal.  This is a mistake because even if their economy was stable, the majority of his ‘loyal’ people are only with him because he’s offering a means to keep their families fed – most agree that Milliardo Peacecraft is a lesser evil than raging anarchy, and cooperate for that reason, not good faith.” 

            He pursed his lips, then shrugged, adding, “He probably thinks he has to do this right now, but by not putting it off until the spring, he risks toppling the whole empire when they need the stability.” 

            Wufei watched Yu Zi frown from the corner of one eye, leaning all the way back into the cushions and focusing on the tv screen.  She appeared to be considering the information, but was going to protest over some point soon… 

            She didn’t disappoint.  “But his home was attacked, so it wouldn’t be safe to leave it alone for that long either.  His sister is injured and he’s putting the base back together piece by piece, so how could he afford to wait?” 

            “After the public attack those attackers are taking now, anyone would think twice before trying again,” Kailì countered.  “Europe can’t afford another hit like that before March or April, not and still be the home everyone there wants it to be afterwards.”  He shook his head a little.  “But let’s say you’re right: maybe I’m wrong and he does have to defend and purge now… but you have to look at what effect it’s having already. 

            “While he’s pulling apart his infrastructure looking for traitors, he’s temporarily stripping them of power and, intentionally or not, dropping the extra authority on Darlian’s militia groups.  Now, these are just normal people – but a lot of them belong to the gangs that were keeping the cities vaguely under law before the militia formation.  Enlisting gave them a minimal amount of power when in uniform, organized into pre-arranged groups for peacekeeping action, with the police and military held overhead to keep checks on their behavior.  But now, allowed as much room to move as before they had to agree to legitimate, monitored action, with full backing of the law?  How many grudges and debts will be paid back in full?  And how many people have to go stupidly far over that line before the more honorable ones start trying to compensate for the actions of those others – or to slip in a few favors for themselves?”  Seeing her pensive look, he nodded a little.  “And from there, what law enforcement you have begins to truly crumble.” 

            That would be one way to look at it, Wufei supposed, staring at the television screen even as he wasn’t really watching it.  It was strange, being on the outside… he wondered what that fool of a woman, Po, was trying now.  Or Relena… the little idiot had gone and grown wings and fangs in the past six months.  Wounded or not, he had little doubt she was running her own games behind the scenes that would come to light in due time, and she could work quickly – he remembered how swiftly he had been bounced out of the new capital for fear of discovery when she had come to inspect and make deals on his new technology.  Apparently she’d even thrown a few well-placed barbs that made it obvious she was furious at not being allowed to meet the involved engineers.  None of the others had been forced out of the city for fear of discovery, but it had been him who made most of the early big breakthroughs.  It had felt like he was being punished for his success, especially when he had accidentally wandered onto that farmer’s land and been chased off. 

            It had been gratifying, at least, to come back to the room he shared with Shui and work on the new prototypes Relena had contracted. 

            But now…  It was bizarre to watch war beginning to brew all over again and to have nothing to do with it.  Was this what it would have been like, had Meilan never died – had OZ and the Alliance never come to his colony?  If he had kept them firmly out of the path of the war like he had planned?  He had had a few places in mind to move them to when it finally erupted, back when his only duty was to his studies and his wife, her clan.  They would not have been home when their home colony was destroyed, even if he had had to drag her to another colony kicking and screaming – or sedated, more likely.  Would he have watched the screen like this, wondering what had happened to Master O and scowling at the handling of the chosen pilot for the Master’s art of engineering? 

            “What are you thinking about?” 

            Yu Zi was watching him with that piercingly sharp gaze of hers again, having noticed his thoughts’ deviation despite the fact that he knew he was still staring at the screen in a close mock scrutiny.  She could be both as clever and infuriating as her father, and she noticed things she ought to have passed over entirely.  It bothered him to be so well read by this girl child of his contemporary, but she was only getting better at it the more time he spent in this household.  And while he had no intention of doing anything other than continue to deflect her, he could see that she was as stubborn as he in all too many ways… and eventually she might tell him what was wrong instead of asking inconvenient questions. 

            He both dreaded the idea and was curious to see if she might succeed. 

            For now, he simply gave her an annoyed look and focused back on the subtitles for the European news channel.  He had no desire to help her along… and he had nothing worth sharing in any case.  ‘What if’ scenarios helped no one, at least not in the context he had been using; the brooding only served to help make a mess of his own mind with the hope that one of these days he might piece it back into a proper whole. 

            Meilan was gone, and while the way he had tried to enforce her justice hadn’t worked before, he was trying a new way now – his way instead of hers, maybe.  Here, I am making a firm difference in lives everywhere, and that is all I have the right to do. 

            A little girl had no way of understanding the kind of debt to duty he bore.  But these days, at least, he was almost proud to carry that burden. 

            Well, so long as the rest of the world didn’t burn in the meantime. 

-

***

-

**Prague, Czech Republic**

            Dr. Po took a long drag of her vile coffee, hoping the caffeine would do something to ease her headache.  The other night had been a disaster on the scale that she had worried about but still hoped was impossible… and whatever she had told Hilde before about not minding a little extra mayhem to help, this had _not_ helped. 

            It had been _exactly_ as she suspected, only larger… one group had been behind a number of attacks that had appeared random and varied.  The Regime was deep into questioning everyone they had taken prisoner and while they were all sorts of paranoid now, worried about foul play within their ranks and already starting to purge for more disloyal men, Sally was thankful for the fact that they still documented everything through their computer network.  And while her computer junkie boys had noted that overall security was increased on the digital front as well as physical, the back door they had been long taking advantage of was still there…  Though now it was hidden slightly better, so that no one who didn’t already know about it would be likely to stumble on it. 

            Someone was protecting that method of compromise, and if they hadn’t been caught yet, Sally doubted they would. 

            The boys had explained enough to her that she understood that that doorway could have been hidden far better, and even if it was found, that it could have been made more specific, so that no one but the creator could use it without tripping alarms.  Her best had specifically made the point, when he first found it, that the creator knew far more than he did – something about the way it was set up being ingenious – and that the loophole _they_ used to take advantage of it was entirely _purposeful_. 

            She had initially been entirely against its use, because of that.  The only reason she had relented was because there was no inbuilt way to track the users, which was highly unusual…  Though it made sense if the creator had wanted no way for his or her people to be tracked by their own ‘ingenuity’.  Even after they had begun to use some of what they knew – not so much that it was obvious there was a leak, mind – the information had never been false.  Well, not unless the Regime had the wrong perspective to start with, but then they had screwed themselves over as well.  From every sign they had ever gotten, that loophole led to the genuine goods, with nothing kept hidden. 

            Until of course, last June, when R.L. Tomorrow Today apparently inspected the system. 

            She would _love_ to know who ran that fund…  All she could find were the past cases, that the R.L. stood for Rhea Lowe, and that it sometimes used a symbol of a stylized phoenix as its calling card.  She knew two previous candidates personally, but if they knew more about the proprietor than that, they had no intention of telling. 

            The most curious part of the Fund, to her at least, was not the secrecy behind the proprietor, but rather the fact that when RLTT came on the scene to aid Relena it had clearly considered the Regime digital security to be unacceptable… and instead of erasing any flaws, as Howard said was demanded for the _Peacemillion_ project, it had simply built an entirely new, virtually impenetrable system for all information surrounding the princess alone. 

            _That_ … that suggested some highly mixed feelings between Peacecraft and Darlian-Peacecraft. 

            There was also a chance that the second wall had been her bodyguard’s doing, Colonel Jacob Miller.  Her head of all her computing, Stewart Malinsky, had very briefly been tutored by him back in the Specials, and he had even admitted that the wall completely covering Relena had some of his flair.  One of the more likely theories she and Stew had come up with was that RLTT had ordered he set it up as an extra precaution both because of his alleged skill and that he would, according to Stew, undoubtedly catch someone ‘playing that close to him on his turf’. 

            If that was the case, however, and Jacob Miller _was_ that good with security, why had Zechs turned down the modifications he had apparently wanted to make to the original system when it was being put together?  The answer was mixed.  A number of measures had been dismissed as being ‘too paranoid’ and not worth the hassle it would make with such a large set-up, which was understandable; when you had that massive of a project, the tricks that worked in a smaller group – almost all of which Stew had immediately implemented for their own system – were useless.  At the same time, though, if he was even half so proficient as everyone claimed, why didn’t they have him still high up for controls of the creation of the system?  He was never officially part of the project. 

            The answer, it seemed, was that instead of building his fort solidly, Zechs had spent some of his better resources hunting for the gundam pilots.  Admittedly, Jake had come amazingly close a number of times, but the boys were good at what they did, and had a greater incentive to come out ahead.  Consequently, the searches had never produced anything more than hints and clues, and occasionally Miller would offer consultations of what ought to be done to the digital security… which were either ignored or had never actually made it onto Zechs’ desk, for all that they could tell. 

            And Stew insisted, even when she had him dissect their back door as much as he could, that while Relena’s security had the colonel written all over it, their inlet didn’t bear any of his ‘quirks’.  Apparently, Miller had a relatively unique style. 

            He had never officially been involved with the digital security, so was it possible that he didn’t know the secret entrance was there?  Perhaps he had gotten irritated some time after being ignored time and again and simply washed his hands of it.  The question, really, was if it was apathy to the point that he hadn’t noticed, or if he had decided the Regime needed a good bite in the ass before they would do anything about it. 

            According to those who had known him in the past, the latter was a common attitude for Miller.  There were more than a few mutters about him breaking arms when someone touched him on purpose but uninvited, then simply calling it an objective lesson – that they wouldn’t forget that he liked his personal space ever again.  While he had apparently calmed down – he hadn’t snapped anyone’s bones so unprovoked since he was thirteen – he still insisted that experience was the most effective teacher. 

            None of his old comrades thought he was cynical enough to leave such a blatant hole in what he would see as _his_ security system just so Zechs would learn his lesson, though.  The general consensus was that he had become frustrated enough to turn a blind eye and dive into a separate project with everything he had.  Getting bored and finding something new to immerse himself in was evidently a major part of the man’s M.O.. 

            Miller aside, the fact was that that back door _had_ been built for someone in particular despite the openings left for others, and whoever had built it was protecting it, despite risk of discovery from the Regime.  The hacker was committed, and it was unlikely that it was to a small group.  There was a chance it was someone who had done it to just _do_ it, but it had been there since before the Regime had much power. 

            Xutao Chang had claimed that for some time he had been chased by men belonging to Treize…  And if Treize really was alive and in hiding somewhere, then his men would be as loyal as they ever were, and in practically every nook and cranny that existed by now.  They would be all through the Regime, and it was likely that the door was his… and anyone he had so deeply infiltrated knew well how to hide themselves.  Since the idea that Treize was even alive was easily dismissed, let alone the notion that he greatly opposed Zechs, few would consider questioning the trustworthiness of a Treize loyalist. 

            She felt her face form into a hard, grim smile.  She would love to see when _that_ investment exploded in Zechs’ face…  She just wished she knew when it would be, or what the man’s ultimate goals were. 

            The main thing that had her wondering about the aristocrat, though, was that as he was technically dead, Treize had no access to Khushrenada or Romefeller funds – those had defaulted to Dorothy Catalonia in October.  And if she knew anything about the General, it was that he had to have at least three other fronts forming up, just as she did… and that would require some heavy backing, especially if he was building suits or widening his network.  Loyalty was good and all, but especially these days, everyone needed a definite way to put food on the table.  And considering the connections of all the past candidates for RLTT, and the seemingly unlimited nature it had always shown before… 

            She wouldn’t be surprised if RLTT was also supporting Treize – especially considering its blatant disregard of the Regime with the exception of the princess.  It was a bit of a leap, but again, considering its history…  And if that _was_ the case, then did Treize see the princess as a potential ally against her brother – which was next to impossible to tell at this point?  _In order to do… what?_   All things done and with hindsight being 20/20, she trusted Treize’s intentions far more than she did Zechs’.  She had always been Alliance before she left entirely, not OZ, but after she had relocated to Earth, she had met Treize once…  And he had recognized her on sight. 

 

_-_

_“Ah, Dr. Po,” he greeted me genially, breaking away from his lieutenant and motioning for the severe-looking woman to stay back.  “It’s a pleasure to see you working on Earth.”_

            There was nothing about me that should interest OZ, and I knew it.  My hackles rose, but I adopted the same smile I used when one of my patients ranked higher than I did.  “The fresh air does me good, sir,” I returned brightly.  “But I hadn’t realized you knew of me, Colonel Khushrenada.  To what do I owe the pleasure?”  Manners might not always work, but they gave you more leeway than people thought. 

_“To the point then,” he decided with a smile that held just a hint of the fact that he was humoring my attempt at civility and found my wariness obvious.  Moving further away from the crowd, acting as though we were simply on a walk, he continued, and I followed with the charade.  “I understand you requested a transfer after several months with a sanitation squad?”_

_I felt cold, but I knew better than to show it.  “It was rather dull work, Colonel,” I told him plainly.  “My comrades were pleasant enough company, but I don’t care to spend so long only surrounded by steel walls, breathing recycled air.  I was curious to see more of space and the colonies, but I’m afraid they were far more lackluster than I expected.”_

_“Of course, nothing can replace this,” the colonel agreed, gesturing vaguely at the vegetation and ocean view.  “And I can perfectly understand any compunctions with working as a Sanitation Squad Commander, especially in some of the less popular reaches, where the oldest colonies reside.”_

_**Oh God damn it!**   I had made a mistake in my written report, or one of my men had – something had contradicted the story we decided on when it went into writing, and it was only now being reviewed.  **But why would it be OZ here instead of the Alliance?**   Had they been the ones who discovered the treachery, from a conflicting report?  Inwardly, my eyes narrowed.  _

_I had been ordered to deploy the YO-448 to ‘disinfect’ L5-A0206, but after the colonel releasing the biological toxin had been killed, there had been no way OZ could obtain a visual that we hadn’t dropped the canisters, not with all the debris.  We had released the containment seals while still in the vacuum of space some time later, far from any colony, and I had disposed what was left of the canisters myself in a pile of scrap that I then personally saw incinerated… as was my duty as the Sanitation squad commander, of course.  That had been the beauty of it: all infected materials needed to be either incinerated and/or melted down before they were delivered to either a Sweepers or Alliance-approved scrap yard.  Once it had been cleansed of chemicals entirely by fire and melted into a flat, unrecognizable shape, I had traded off the pieces to the Sweepers as having had too many impurities for the Alliance to make further use of, so there couldn’t even have been any records of the fact that the metal compound was close to that of the canisters I allegedly no longer had.  I had made sure, before I finished my transfer papers, that the difference was completely unnoticeable._

_I watched Treize closely from the corner of my eye.  Had his men noticed there was still viable life on L5-A0206 and ratted me out? **No, the Alliance would be here already if they had.**   My employers didn’t dally about business, hence deciding to commit the atrocity of fumigating a populated colony in the first place.  No, if he knew, he was here without the Alliance knowing …  **Blackmail?**   I had no ability or possession or even loyalty worth blackmail.  **Is he just here to arrest me himself?**   Aristocrats had a tendency to take it personally that their orders were not followed to the letter, but OZ had wanted to attack head-on, not use the gas.  _

_I couldn’t think of any reasons he might want to undo my deception on L5-A0206, but if he was here out of vindictiveness to do just that, I’d shoot him myself before I was taken in and someone was sent out to kill all those people anyway._

_“At ease, Doctor, I am only making an inquiry for my own purposes.  You see, I believe you may have… seen something irregular that my men encountered in the L5 cluster.”  The man’s pale blue eyes were piercing.  “I understand the actions you may have taken, and will say no more: I am satisfied with all of the reports that have been made.  However, there are a few… discrepancies… in your report that I wish to make sure are maintained.”_

_“Ah.”  There was no court martial hiding here…  He wanted what I knew about the two MS that had shown up. **No, he wouldn’t care about the Leo prototype, he wants to know about the unidentified suit.**   Rather, he wanted to be sure I wouldn’t go back on the fact that I omitted the complication of a bizarre suit sighting from my report to avoid anyone looking back into the case, as I had already protested the use of biological weapons to such a degree that I would be watched for it.  _

_“The colonel piloting the suit my squad used was either killed by misfire from your men, or the colony’s fighting Leo prototype we saw,” I assured him.  In truth it had been that strange, blue and white mobile suit that didn’t look anything like any I had ever seen, and Colonel Khushrenada knew it.  “He was, at that time, returning from his successful deployment of YO-448 into the colony.  We left the area as soon as we realized it had become so violent that we might become involved, and I cannot say that any other irregularities occurred.”  I didn’t know why he wanted to hide that suit from the Alliance, but if he wanted me to cover him, he had better support my end as well._

_“Of course, my men got out of hand and were stupidly arrogant, to be beaten by two Leo prototypes in such a backwater area of space,” the colonel continued smoothly.  “Considering the death count involved, it is unfortunate you left too quickly to confirm who had killed your colonel, but it was entirely right of you to protect your ship from any harm; you were not there as soldiers, and ill-equipped to do anything but take damage from enemy suits.”  He offered me one of his brilliant smiles and a nod of his head that verged on a bow, or at least seemed to implicate it.  “I appreciate your talking with me; it helps me put the case to rest at last.”_

_Yes, whatever treachery he was up to against the Alliance for not telling them about that suit was solidly hidden now… but so was mine.  I gave him a genuine smile in return.  I shouldn’t run into situations like that anymore, in this medical center; I could just do what I had been through medical school for in the first place, and finish my time owed to the Alliance in peace, business as usual.  Khushrenada could do whatever he wanted; he had a better idea of what justice was than the Alliance, at any rate._

_-_

 

 _Well, it was business as usual until that Heero Yuy kid got brought in,_ she thought to herself with an amused smirk.  God, that had been such an utter _disaster_ …  Those boys were rather good at doing that. 

            She wanted to be able to contact Treize at some point, but at the same time she was wary of what lies and deceptions he would spin for her.  Khushrenada was remarkably talented at telling people what they needed to hear in order to do convince you to do what he _wanted_ , not the full truth; the war had proven that over and over again.  The only solace she had was that when his machinations finally came to light he had had the same goals in common with the rest of them, and had likely been the main component that got them to one or more necessary points. 

            The only thing that had _not_ gone according to his master plan was his old comrade being insane enough to _actually_ drop a battleship on the planet. 

            She sighed, trying to catch her reflection in her coffee.  The question she wanted answered more than anything was that of Relena’s allegiances.  She _knew_ the girl was solidly for the best interests of the planet and the surviving people on it, but beyond that, who knew what she believed to be the best path?  The princess had dropped all pretense of keeping peace and was currently focusing on mass humanitarian efforts that avoided all political influences.  She had immediately come to ignore the political climate of any area and worked only on an economic level, trying to equalize pits of hell back into normalcy.  The only affiliation she had offered the public was that she lived near her brother and had stood in for him in a meeting or two, but Sally knew from the war that Relena could care less about _where_ she was so long as it was conducive to getting what she wanted done.  As for Milliardo’s possible influence… Relena strongly supported her arguments with very little reference to her brother’s stance, focusing instead on working out compromises between the listed issues of state. 

            If what she had learned about the girl during the war meant anything, she was trying to create her _own_ political climate… and with how much she had managed to do in six months alone, it was starting to look like she might just pull it off. 

            _So then it becomes a question of ‘does Relena know Treize is alive and out to make friends yet?’_   Right before _Libra_ , Treize and Relena had both used the other for their own ends, her granting him power and him releasing her from a role she held little interest in so she could try to stop her brother from his lunacy…  And if anyone had ever been able to convince him, it _would_ have been his little sister.  He had just been past being willing to listen to anyone by then. 

            She wished she could send someone to talk to Relena, for the princess would surely hear them out and let them leave, being the girl she was, but that depended on the meeting taking place on neutral enough ground that she wasn’t put in a situation where only her protection would keep the messenger from harm.  Sally had considered doing it a number of times; the problem, however, was that she never left the company of Colonel Jacob Miller, and Miller was as much of a wild card as the gundam boys. 

            He had already been taught full field craft in a number of different forms of pure violence when he joined the Specials, to the degree that he could easily have been an agent were it not for _age requirements_.  He showed up trained to such a degree to join the Specials at _nine_.  After joining he had worked closely with Treize and a young officer two years senior to the aristocrat, David Mitchell, before later gravitating more towards his age group and becoming fast friends with Lucrezia Noin – and by extension with Zechs.  He had disappeared for almost a year after he turned twelve – reportedly for ‘family reasons’ – and when he had returned, he had been changed drastically, and his work from there had become… spotty.  He had started to simply disappear from time to time, or handed off his orders to other soldiers if he hadn’t been interested in following them himself.  Treize had offered him reprieve after reprieve, allowing him to simply get away with his misconduct time and again before one day, at fifteen, Miller had simply handed in his resignation and left the military. 

            He had still been called into OZ periodically for jobs as a private contractor, but he also turned jobs down and regularly disappeared for months at a time.  He never seemed to want for money, and spoke of other work with his old friends, so presumably he did quite a bit of contracting otherwise, likely as security or as a bodyguard. 

            Most of the OZ jobs he had taken – according to his classified file with the Regime – involved long-term espionage, assassinations, or the kind of ‘wet’ Black Ops mission with a high body count – the sort of missions the organization never admitted to ordering.  And he had usually been placed with David Mitchell when he was contracted… and now he again had David Mitchell as his second-in-command. 

            Mitchell, meanwhile, had resigned not long after Treize’s withdrawal and disappeared almost entirely until the Regime had formed, at which point he was easily accepted as an old acquaintance of Miller and by association, of Zechs.  Miller claimed to have continued private work in the colonies prior to the gundams’ fall to Earth, and had eventually been recruited by White Fang for his expertise in digital security. 

            With no idea how either of the two incredibly lethal men would react to a member of a separate faction, the idea of sending a messenger was unthinkable.  Miller was described as being incredibly loyal to his friends and the ideals he believed in if not specific organizations, and it was _possible_ that he might follow Relena firmly now because of what she was trying to do, but the risk could not be taken unless they knew he would follow Relena’s lead and not his own initiative. 

            Therefore, the princess was firmly out of reach. 

            Right now, they needed to just hunker down for winter.  Any more pressure on Zechs might well cause the economy to crumble and that, above all things, could not be afforded.  The group that had attacked had not realized what upset in the governing seat could do, and while they had _planned_ to attack when Relena was far from the base, the fact was that they had done the exact opposite.  Consequently, even while the general public was scared at the sign of instability, they were also furious that any rebels would try to hurt the compassionate woman so many rested their hopes on.  That increased the sheer amount of unrest, but so long as it didn’t get too out of hand, that anger was useful for keeping away the terror that this winter was bringing into many homes. 

            Artificial supplements and protein bars once made specifically for keeping people alive when on the edge of starvation were being mass produced and distributed, but while they might keep someone alive it wouldn’t truly quell an empty stomach, and no parent wanted to face the horror of hungry children.  Even then, while the vitamins to keep general malnourishment down were easily distributed, the disgusting bars were harder to make, and there honestly were not enough of them for the populace by the estimated counts.  It was better than nothing, of course, but it still didn’t solve the problem.  The estimated production that would come out of the hydroponics complexes was very unsure, though at least they would only use the altered strains of crops the colonies used, which matured extremely fast.  They might help in the late winter, but they wouldn’t truly come into their own until spring was on them.  They would still desperately need the resource then, of course, but it would not help much for _now_ , when panic was spreading. 

            Her own people should be more or less fine, considering the degree to which they had always prepared to be cut off from all outside sources with little notice, but part of their winter plan was also to rely as much as they could on those food bars, continuing to save any foods that were preserved should they find themselves in trouble in the spring as well.  Hopefully she wouldn’t have to worry about food by then, but she wasn’t willing to take chances. 

            So for now…  For now they could focus on work that they could accomplish without needling the Regime, and get ready for conflict come spring. 

-

***

-

**November 27 th 197 – Monday – Brussels** **, Belgium**

            It really couldn’t be time yet. 

            She had been more than ready for this yesterday, but it took time to properly gather up the press.  And now…  She still didn’t understand why originally Jake had tried to tell her to give the conference on Tuesday, but he’d been right.  But it was time, and if she canceled now, panic _would_ ensue. 

            “Here.” 

            She blinked at the sour candy that had long been her favorite as a child, the kind she had used to pick up and add to the tab at any grocery and convenience store without thinking… which she hadn’t had since she was fifteen.  Her mouth was suddenly watering as she remembered the sharp bite and sweetness.  The package was already open and being held out to her by Jake. 

            She eagerly accepted one of the little pieces and popped it in her mouth even as she gave him a questioning look.  Looking all too pleased with himself, he simply said, “Dorothy.” 

            _Ah._   Of course, Dorothy _would_ remember something like that from Sanc instead of the ideals she hadn’t really been there to learn. 

            “Better?” 

            _Oh hell, it was only a distraction, wasn’t it?_   Sighing slightly, she grabbed another piece and slowly savored it for a moment, admitting to herself that while food bribery was a simple ploy, she felt amazingly better for the nostalgia, and even her body felt a little lighter for all that it was a mass of resonating ache. 

            “You’ll be fine,” Jake muttered as he led the way over to the stage, tucking the candy away somewhere.  “It’s going to suck but you’ll do fine anyhow, and maybe next time you’ll believe me about buffer time.” 

            “You hardly made it out to be important,” she argued sullenly, checking to make sure her clothes were perfectly settled. 

            “You ought to know your own limits, and if you don’t know them, there’s only one good way to learn,” he returned amiably, tucking a few stray strands of her hair back into place.  “Besides, you might have felt great today, and if I’d pushed it the next time you’d been hurt you might have tried for even less prep over something more vital before collapsing in front of the cameras.” 

            “Next time?” she asked wearily, closing her eyes for a moment.  She wanted her painkillers, but didn’t want to be on stage with the opiate in her system, so she couldn’t take them until after the conference. 

            “Plan for the worst, hope for the best,” her friend muttered.  Then he grinned broadly at her, nudging her toward the stage.  “You’re beautiful, go stun them with a smile or something.” 

            She snorted slightly and took a deep breath before taking the last few steps.  This needed to be done.  She would do exactly what she had meant to, and then she could go rest. 

-

***

-

**Feldkirch, Austria**

            _She’s hurting,_ Adam realized with a frown, watching the public screen.  _She’s going to be fine, and she’s not doing too bad a job of hiding it…  But she’s in pain._   Looking around at the people near him, he could tell he wasn’t the only one who had noticed. 

            He was, however, perhaps the only one who had both noticed and appeared calm. 

            _Was it a good idea for her to do this?_   He could understand her wanting to stomp out rumors by allowing the public to see her, but this would only solidify the idea that she was in too poor of health to travel.  He doubted her injuries were too severe, but a downside to being a public symbol was the fanaticism it garnered, which in turn spawned hundreds of rumors. 

            In her defense, she was probably only having a badly timed flare-up; Relena had never had a harsh enough injury before now to realize that just because you felt good one day didn’t mean you would the next… or that in fact, feeling very good meant the next day was _likely_ to be worse, because in your excitement you had pushed your body further than it was ready to go.  

            Adam frowned.  He remembered being told that… remembered the man’s expression as he gingerly shifted his weight off a heavily bandaged leg so he could sit.  He had been incredibly tall from the perspective, and the background was vaguely similar to other snippets of memory from when he was young, so he could only assume it was from his childhood. 

            He felt a sort of intimate trust in him, comfort from the his voice explaining something that had worried him…  But he couldn’t remember who he was, or why he had been hurt.  That degree of confidence, dependence, was unusual compared to any other memories that had come back, _bizarre_ , even, which meant the man had probably been important…

            But there was nothing more _there_ to remember. 

            Aggravated, he reminded himself of why he had simply started following whatever whim came to mind instead of fruitlessly digging for what he was _supposed_ to be.  The memories were broken and came few and far between, and trying to rebuild what he had lost was impossible.  It _never_ got him anywhere but more confused than before and frustrated enough that he needed to _fly_ … or at least, that’s what the acrobatics his body had come trained to do felt like.  Pure strength of movement and freedom…  Flying Heavyarms had been similar, but also terrifying, because he hadn’t been confident he really knew what he was doing, and there was an entire army trying to kill him. 

            Cathy had said he’d had a motorcycle before, but she didn’t know where it had gotten to…  And there was that one flash that came to mind of flinging himself into the sky from the handlebars of one, so he doubted he would find it again.  He imagined he could work one he found on the street just fine… but it wasn’t going to be like his reunion with his gundam. 

            He had hoped, when he had seen Heavyarms again, that being near it, in it, would spur on more memory.  But while it was familiar, it was only in the same way that he knew the acrobatics and seemingly every kind of weapon or tool he ever found; if he could touch it, he could make it work like he’d been doing it all his life. 

            _And for all I know, I **have**._   Not that he’d ever _know_ … the only fact he’d been able to find inside his own mind – or even through what databases he could magically open through use of a keyboard and net access – was that despite all the _skills_ he somehow had, he had been utterly unremarkable and not worth mentioning. 

            _I don’t think I was interesting enough to keep track of._   At first the lack of information had made him more sure that there was something to be found, some mystery that he had been hiding, but the more bits of memories and impressions that actually came back, mixed with other results…  If he hadn’t _known_ that he had piloted a gundam, he would have been tempted to refer to Nanashi, to Trowa Barton, as a pushover.  He had thought the lack of general opinion on anything whatsoever had just been the amnesia until Catherine made the most absolutely amazingly delicious lasagna, and she had laughed at him for enjoying it so much when he hadn’t cared before… 

            And before he could protest, a little voice in the back of his head had said, _It’s food.  Just eat it._  

            He had valid reasons for naming his old personality ‘Apathy’. 

            That had probably been one of the reasons he had done so well at espionage and sliding past everyone unnoticed, during the war.  If you didn’t _care_ about anything, you could drop it all and go along with the crowd perfectly enough to wear them as a kind of camouflage; until you found an edge you could use with no one the wiser.  From what he’d been able to find out, he had been _very_ good at staying under the radar…  And he still was really good at that now, too, though he was pretty sure he wasn’t doing it much the same way he had before. 

            Though it might be; he doubted he would ever know for sure. 

            Catherine said he was more creative, now.  That he was more intrigued by life, more lively, or just… happier.  She said he’d always been innovative, but had maybe been too detached from everything to bother with more than the bare minimum – that with the amnesia, he’d gained a new passion for life that he hadn’t had before. 

            He trusted she had some idea what she was talking about; he’d decided a while ago that seeing as he couldn’t remember anyway, there wasn’t any reason to care. 

            And he was really starting to think that he _liked_ being ‘Adam’.  The name had been chosen at random to begin with, but it had grown on him, especially after all the time he had spent traveling with Chang.  Trowa had been a borrowed name anyhow, and while Nanashi or ‘Nobody’ – depending on your language of favor – had apparently worked for a while, it was both impractical and inane. 

            _I should tell Catherine to use Adam instead of Trowa, if I’ve decided to keep it._   His circus cover had never been blown, but he had inherited a good understanding of the value of discretion since his birth from an oxygen deprivation coma in October 195.  He’d embraced what he was shown then, even as some of it felt strange… but while he immediately found he could _do_ things, he didn’t know _why_.  The flashbacks didn’t start until after he met Duo and Quatre, who knew him even though he didn’t them.  After that, the muscle memory came back so fast he had assumed the bare glimmers of the past would eventually unfold… but they never had. 

            He was fairly sure at this point that he knew everything he could _do_ , and he understood certain frames of thought and habit as also being inherited from long experience and training… but other than brief images and phrases, that was it.  The doctors he woke up to had described permanent damage in a few places on his brain both from the trauma – i.e. explosion – as well as from his time floating in space with a dying oxygen tank.  They’d said he was lucky the ‘trauma’ hadn’t been so violent to tear the suit before he’d been ejected – shock had put him into a coma _before_ he had begun to drift in space.  By the time he was found, there was more than two liters of blood pooled in his flight suit. 

            The only reason he hadn’t bled out long before being found, apparently, was because his oxygen ran low enough that he had been freezing at the same time.  The crystalizing ice had sealed his wounds shut.  The coma had lowered his body’s immediate oxygen demands and the temperature drop had done the same again, putting his body into a dangerous form of cryostasis.  The only reason the first responders had even tried when they found him, apparently, was the old adage of ‘you’re not dead until you’re warm and dead’.  Modern tech and medicine meant that the worst of the frostbite had been mitigated later in the hospital, though a lot of it was pure excision and regeneration… 

            The term ‘modern medical miracle’ had been thrown around quite a bit.  The amnesia hadn’t been even mildly surprising to the doctor in charge of his case – he had admitted point blank that he had no idea how much might be recoverable, if any at all. 

            Trowa had understood.  He’d thought, _It’s not too bad, as far as prices for a second chance, go,_ and he’d understood… but he’d also been hopeful for a while, especially when his old friends had found him. 

            …Cathy had been so _furious_ , then.  He’d only been out of the hospital for two days when Duo showed up at the circus, and despite his insistence on working in the show, his regenerative treatment sessions were still happening three times a week.  _Well, the second time I got out of the hospital._   He’d pulled all his monitors, broken into a locker for clothes, and escaped through a stairwell and back door a day or so after waking up, running on instinct, before he found himself a mile away from the hospital in the pouring rain with no idea what came next.  No idea where he was, or what was wrong with him beyond his body not being _right_ , and then Cathy was in his face and he _didn’t know **anything**_. 

            In hindsight, it was a miracle, too, that he’d run into the one civilian who knew and cared about him.  When she hugged him, she’d felt the heavy bandaging and after that it had taken her only a moment to find the wristband he hadn’t gotten rid of yet reading ‘Doe, John’.  In the face of someone who _knew_ him, he hadn’t seen much point in resisting her bullying him back to the hospital.  The staff there had been panicking by that point, but were mostly just exasperated when Cathy marched him up to the ER desk and told them to fix his name to Triton Bloom, though he preferred Trowa, and said he hadn’t been thinking straight, so could they please re-admit him?  She had visited every day after that, when she didn’t just sleep there…  And that had been that. 

            So the amnesia was definitely permanent, but…  _It could’ve been worse._   Apparently he used to have bouts of suicidal depression before, and that was gone.  Cathy said he’d often floundered for direction, unsure of what to do.  _Direction._   He rolled his eyes as he focused back on the screen displaying Relena.  _Why should you have to ask anyone else what you should do?_   Relena was a fine example for his own philosophy ever since he had left memory digging as a dead end.  _Do what you want – what you believe you **have** to – and make sure you have no reason to go back and regret it later._  

            Though… the more time that went on, the more sure he was getting that that was advice he got from somewhere.  _Something about handing a gun to people?_   That… 

            He shook his head and stopped trying; he wasn’t sure if he would understand that one even if he _could_ remember. 

-

***

-

**Treize’s hidden compound**

            Treize frowned as he watched the end of Relena’s conference, considering.  She had obviously come on camera purely in spite of her condition, in a sentiment of responsibility, and that reaffirmed her strength and character to more than just him.  Her tour was delayed, though she was soon going to be implementing a few temporary measures – a series of video conferences – to keep from falling too far behind, as well as extending her original tour to loop back into the areas that she had been unable to visit earlier.  She was currently in the middle of implementing the final stages of a few more of her vitamin and rations packets for select groups in any case, and she would have more news soon. 

            He wondered if she was holding so few conferences as she was through the net due to her health, or because she didn’t want anyone to get the idea that it could be a long-term solution.  By every account he had gotten, Relena adamantly preferred to do her business in person, public or otherwise.  _How hard is Zechs pushing for her to simply conference long distance?_   Her presentation regarding that was rather more defensive than necessary, which did suggest she wanted nothing more than to be out doing what she could to help…  But on the other hand, it implied some contention between the Peacecraft siblings.  Treize knew Zechs’ opinions about his sister – and anything to do with Sanc in general – well enough to realize the man would jump on any opportunity to keep the girl safer. 

            Contention between the prince and princess was something to be hoped for.  Controversy over their methods meant she might look elsewhere for allies.  She might even be wary of Milliardo… but if she was, she hid it well.  From what he remembered of her mixed with what he heard now, she wasn’t so naïve as to believe her brother was above reenacting her isolation in some corner of space if he decided it was necessary. 

            In the past year, Relena had shown herself to be _far_ more cunning than in the past, and not above using tricks when they came to hand easily.  That was the primary reason he had chosen to stay guarded around her instead of simply bringing her into the loop.  She knew, now, how to get what she wanted _without_ her brother’s approval, forcing him into situations wherein he would lose more public face than he could afford if he tried to negate her decisions.  So far it was mostly just to escape his overprotectiveness, but that limitation might only be in place because she knew that was all she could currently get away with for now without him retaliating _despite_ the blow to his publicity.  Trying to divine exactly where her lines were drawn was proving impossible.  Until she said or did something more definitive- 

            His computer made a noise that meant he’d gotten mail from a high priority address, and he opened up that window to read.   _Ah, Váli…_  

 

_-_

_Tate,_

_This sucks so bad you can’t even know, and I don’t care that it wasn’t your fault, you owe me.  Despite the fact that I would probably have gone and joined up and done all the same shit even without what you said, I’m still blaming you._

_That said, it could be worse.  It’s not like I’ve done anything wrong, but just the same, it’s turning into the fuckin’ Spanish Inquisition in here.  No more on that because yeah, none of your business, and you know I don’t talk about work and I’m breaking that a little, but… shit, man._

_I’m okay, everything’s more or less okay…  I lost some friends to some of those fuckers who waltzed in here like they had a right, but…  We’ll be stronger for it, or at least that’s the running propaganda._

_Not much else going on right now; everything new already showed up on the news.  It’ll be a long while before I can sleep without one eye open, but hey, it could be worse – I’ve haven’t done that in over a year now, new record!  Oh, Michael was promoted into a different division, I guess that’s new.  He can tell you what the hell he’s up to on his own time, though, he’s disgustingly excited anyhow and I need to sleep.  I’ll write you again some other time, when we’ve stopped doing our best kicked anthill impressions._

_You’re an asshole and should find me a girlfriend for Christmas,_

_Váli_

_-_

 

            Treize frowned.  It was as crass as ever, but…  no links on this one, just a vague report.  _The security **did** get tight.  _

            Well, that or Váli really was preposterously busy and tired; writing secret emails wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to do completely undetected, and he worked long hours besides – from his commentary, Treize would wager that he’d given up time he’d meant to spend asleep to encode and slip out the message.  The fact that he’s sent it – even if it was a little late – meant everything was still under the radar.  At least part of the commentary about working hard had to do with keeping his back door into the Regime database both open and undetected – an amusing pet project of Váli’s to sow chaos and discord. 

            _Michael promoted…_  David had been promoted?  The repeated used of the word ‘new’…  A spark of hope ignited somewhere inside him and he found himself rereading and grinning.  He was almost _positive_ that had to mean the Regime was forming up the Strike Force now, but he wouldn’t be able to confirm until later.  Hopefully he would also explain the girlfriend comment then; he couldn’t tell if it was an attempt at humor and keeping to the general mood of the writing style Váli employed in case of interception, or if it was supposed to actually be relevant.  _He might have just done it to leave me confused and thinking about it for no reason._   The tone was moody enough otherwise for that to fit… 

            _I’ll find out later,_ Treize decided firmly, tucking the information away in the back of his mind.  If it was urgent, he would have done something obvious.  Váli had never had any problems getting attention when he thought it was due. 

-

***

-

**November 28 th 197 – Tuesday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            Melissa frowned slightly, tugging the knitted cap tighter over Renee’s head, glancing ahead of her to try and see how far ahead the line was.  The infant looked up at her in mild consternation before returning to babbling happily at her hands, completely fascinated by the mittens that had transformed a part of her that she had thought she was familiar with into soft pink balls of fluff.  The baby had hated the hat when indoors, but thankfully she’d gotten over that once she realized it kept her comfortable while standing out here.  Melissa would’ve been verging on a meltdown by now if she had an inconsolable, screaming, miserable infant that didn’t understand _why_ she was miserable. 

            This was taking a bit longer than she’d expected.   _I should have brought another of those little blankets Sister Isabel has endless supply of._   She didn’t like having the baby out in the cold this long, especially so _soon_ after her shots.  Sin might not understand the first thing about vaccinations, but that was because she’d never been in charge of children younger than herself before.  If the baby’s immune system weakened while the half broken viruses ran through her body, there was a chance she might catch one of the very things they were trying to keep her safe from. 

            At the same time, though, if they wanted the benefits for Renee, they had to prove they had her, and Karina and Luc were working during the times you were supposed to come in about it so Melissa had offered to take care of it.  Honestly, Kay had had the best schedule for it, but they couldn’t send _him_ into a government building, baby or no; that would just be stupid. 

            Unfortunately, a lot of other people had children under five years old that they wanted to register for benefits, and this was taking longer than Melissa felt comfortable with… though at least Renee didn’t look like she was cold or even bothered by being out here.  If anything, she was curious. 

            Much, _much_ better than that poor woman with the baby screaming bloody murder. 

            She was glad for the baby carrier thing.  A lot of other people had brought children in car seats or strollers, but since Renee was such a tiny thing, she still fit in the backpack that went over your chest, and it was easier to keep her good and toasty there.  All the same, the little girl was going to sleep _so_ deep later…  It was way past her naptime – she’d figured the more of the trip the kid slept the better – but she’d been too excited to nap, apparently.  Really, it made sense since she was almost never outside, but none of them had stopped to consider that; it was just too damn _cold_. 

            “She’s an angel, isn’t she?” the woman behind her commented, sounding tired. 

            Melissa smiled and turned to face her; the other woman had a baby much younger than Renee tucked in a sling that was actually under her sweater and a little boy that looked to be around four asleep in a stroller.  “Compared to most of this lot, I’d have to agree,” Melissa returned.  “She has her moments though, trust me.” 

            The woman smiled and nodded in a way that suggested she knew exactly what Melissa meant.  “Pretty, too.  Did she get the blonde from her father?” 

            The Devils girl laughed.  “Oh, both her parents, actually.  Her daddy’s like a big brother to me, and he and her mom didn’t have good hours for this, so I’m here with her instead.  She’s hardly any trouble, though.” 

            “Oh.”  The slip didn’t seem to embarrass the woman too badly, though she did look a little flushed.  “You were just being so good with her…” 

            “My guy and I watch her a lot,” she admitted easily.  “But no, she’s not mine.”  She let out a sigh, going up on her toes to try to see if maybe the line had moved any closer to a building.  “Man, someone could make a killing selling something hot to drink out here.” 

            There were more than a few groans and heartfelt agreements down the line, and Melissa snickered, leaning forward to rub noses with Renee, which made her smile before she went back to chomping on her left mitten.  This sucked… but they’d get there eventually, and in the long run it would be more than worth it. 

            In the meantime, someone was finally looking talkative.  “How old?” she asked to make conversation, nodding her head at the bump of infant bundled under the other woman’s sweater. 

-

***

-

**November 29 th 197 – Wednesday – Brussels** **, Belgium**

            Milliardo glanced down at the paper that had been shoved in front of him before meeting his sister’s eyes again.  “No,” he told her resolutely. 

            The young woman grit her teeth in a look that was rather reminiscent of when his mother had lost her temper with him and demanded he go to his room _now_.  The tight smile showing too many teeth, eyes livid, even managing to look _down_ at him since he was sitting and she standing, resting her weight on his desk with her good arm…  It made some little piece of him that he had thought never survived childhood want to turn tail and run. 

            The resemblance was uncanny to say the least. 

            “Why not?”  Her voice was cool and collected, as though there were no tension in the room at all and she were only asking why he didn’t want his usual flavor of tea today.  Her jaw was tight and her frustration was obvious from her expression, though not at all in her body language. 

            Again, he couldn’t help but feel a few shivers run down his spine as he saw more similarities…  Though, while Relena sounded cool and detached, Katrina in a temper had sounded… sweeter.  But then, that might have only been how she spoke to her children when about to lose her temper instead of grown adults. 

            The dichotomy would not have bothered him so much had he not known she could do without it – he _knew_ she could control herself better than this because he had seen her do it over the past year.  She had come a long way since Christmas in terms of personal growth.  No, she wanted him to realize exactly how much he was annoying her right now…  She wanted him to see her following his lead while she fought him on what she saw as stupid the whole way. 

            _You would think that being shot and hiding in a closet all night while going into shock would raise even **her** paranoia._   Some days, he swore she had as little sense now as when she had gone chasing after Heero again and again during the war. 

            Fighting the urge to grit his own teeth, he glared up at her from his seat.  Trying to stand quickly had too much of a chance of hurting him just now, and she didn’t need to see that – no one did.  “You are _injured_ ,” he reminded her tersely.  “And it is dangerous out there.  The political climate is far from stable.  I will _not_ allow you to risk yourself until matters calm somewhat.” 

            Relena’s eyes narrowed.  “I _promised_ those people I would be out there, Milliardo.”  Her voice had dropped, but it wasn’t an indicator of an increasing calm: instead, she seemed fiercer.  “I would not be doing anything more strenuous out there than here, and if the damn people are in a tizzy, I might be able to calm them down.” 

            “If you can get your work done here,” he returned in just as quiet of a snarl, “then you should do it here, where you’re _safe_.” 

            “First of all, _here_ is the only place I’ve ever been seriously hurt,” she snapped. 

            Milliardo found himself grimacing.  _I walked right into that one._  

            “Second,” his sister continued, “Video conferences are worthless for gaining rapport and true understanding.” 

            He knew that.  He completely understood her previous refusal to use video conferencing instead of traveling, but until she was better and ever- 

            “Sir!”  The aide had appeared almost like magic at the door with a sheaf of papers in hand.  “Sir, it’s urgent!  Over in the Ukraine, there’s been a…”  He stopped a moment to swallow and continue in a less frantic tone of voice.  “There’s been a riot.” 

            Milliardo felt cold shivers run through his body in a way that might have been pleasant before _Libra_ , as the reality struck home.  _A riot…_   He had halfway expected one, but they were still the things of nightmares.  Looking to Relena he could tell she was focusing inward now, likely running over the implications of the news.  He half considered letting her stay, but he had no heart left to fight with her, and if she started something again he would say something regrettable.  _In any case, she has her own business to attend to these days._  

            “Relena, I need to concentrate on this,” he offered as an explanation while gesturing for the aide to bring him the paperwork.  “We can speak of this again later, if you insist.” 

            “Mmm.  We will.”  Understanding the dismissal, she made her way out of his suite.  Barely paying her any mind as soon as she began to move away, he buried himself in the facts that had been brought to him, trying to see exactly what had gone wrong. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            “ _Christ_ , Gust!” Karina exclaimed, standing from her place on the couch and rushing over to the man.  His militia uniform was grimy and he was holding a piece of cloth to his head; despite that, blood was still flowing around his fingers, dripping down his face.  Seeing Katrien run off, presumably for their first aid kit, she rushed over to him as he stumbled slightly against the doorframe and tried to steady him enough to have him get the rest of the way in and shut the door against the cold.  “What happened?” she demanded.  “What did you _do_?”  _Oh God, that’s a lot of blood._   “Do we need to go find Kay to stitch you up?”  _Wasn’t Gust on duty?_   It was late, the wee hours of the morning; she hadn’t been off work for more than an hour, and Renee was asleep.  “Where’s your partner?”  _The partners are supposed to keep things like this from happening!_   Her stomach turned to ice.  _What happened to his partner?_   Gust wasn’t the type to leave anyone helpless. 

            The man grimaced as she led him to take a seat on one of the stools by the bar; Katrien came rushing back in with the med kit in one hand and one of the fresh hand rags they used for cleaning in the other to wipe at his face and hold pressure to the wound without looking at it.  “Wasn’t any help for it, Sin,” Gust said after a moment.  “What he was doin’ was jus’ plain _wrong_.” 

            His speech was slurring a little, which scared her even more than the blood.  Thankfully, before she could finish _completely_ panicking, Luc stalked into the room.  Taking the scene in quickly, he came to Gust’s side and lifted the gauze only to immediately put it back.  “Kat, go wake up Kay, he’s not working tonight and he does stitches better than me.  Gust?”  Kneeling down in front of the man, he looked up to meet his eyes.  “Gust, what happened?” 

            Gust grimaced again, tried to shake his head before immediately regretting it.  “Couldn’t let him do it Luc…  Just couldn’t let him, it wasn’t right, an’ he go’ the firs’ hit…” 

            “He?  You talkin’ ‘bout your partner, Gust?” Luc asked, unconsciously sliding into more of the slang he had always used growing up.  Gust had always been one of his school friends, Rina knew, and while he and Shov had always been closer, Gust had still been part of their little circle.  When the other man squeezed his eyes shut and nodded a bit, Luc blew out a breath.  “Where’d he go, Gust?  He okay, or we need to go find him now before someone else does?” 

            _Such a dangerous question…_   She expected it, of course; this is what it had always been at first.  Worrying about fights and who was getting hurt, worrying that if someone got killed who wasn’t theirs that they needed to hide the body – at least before the cops had wiped its hands entirely of anything gang related.  This area had _never_ been a good part of town and most of the Devils had only lived within five miles of where they stayed now before _Libra_ , but she remembered when the fights first started becoming common, before anyone was forming up true groups to stay safe…  When she had decided it was bad enough that she needed a foothold in more than one place, to be sure she’d always be protected. 

            She closed her eyes, trying not to cry at the realization that she hadn’t even realized how _good_ things had been the past six months, and that now it was going back to this.  Everything had been better, but she hadn’t really stopped to think about it, not after the city militia got going strong… and now the _militia_ was going to hell?  Luc had said, when they had met, that they were Devils because it was the only way to make it through this hell and it had only been too true, but…  Everything had been going so _well_ , even with the scare about the food crisis, and now… 

            Biting her lip, she turned and left the room; Luc had it under control now, and she needed to try and calm down. 

-

***

-

**November 30 th 197 – Thursday – Brussels** **, Belgium**

            “I am at wit’s end,” the princess hissed, glaring at her pad of paper, scribbling more furiously on it. 

            Jake looked on, her words hardly news.  She had been losing her temper fairly consistently since coming out of surgery, and while it was mildly amusing to watch her get annoyed and more determined to plot, his own patience was beginning to run out as well. 

            And while a week ago he was fairly sure he could get away with telling Zechs he was being a dumbass for shunting his sister away from any political play with enough force to make him _listen_ – Zechs had _always_ needed half a threat or more to pay attention to the opinion of his _closest friends_ , let alone anyone else – he was fairly sure that now, while the man was still all tetchy from the attack, any attempt would land him in a cell.  And while he would probably get out within a few hours – and he knew that the prince would probably feel a fool for having done it and be ready to cave by the time he slammed back into his office – he was pretty sure that starting up his old schoolyard bullshit again with Zechs would not help the princess’ cause. 

            _Now if I could talk **Lena** into slapping him…_   That thought made him grin.  There was no way she’d do it – or at least, not unless this went on for another two weeks or more – but the thought helped ease his temper a little further back on its shelf.  _And hey, if she **did** , it might help snap her brother out of his latest funk._ 

            _…Or put him into a deeper one._  

            He grimaced.  Slapping someone who was being stupid was really Lu’s thing, not Lena’s, and for all that the little princess was growing up into a woman remarkably like his old friend, they were hardly the same person.  _I need to remember that while **I’ve** made my peace with Lu’s disappearing act for the most part, and **I** appreciate seeing the same traits in my new friend as in my big teenage crush, that was only **my** opinion._   If Relena came to remind Zechs too much of Lucrezia, the man would likely go into another of his moping sessions, and Jake wasn’t feeling fond enough of him just now to drag him out anytime soon.  Lu had always been the one to care after both their mood swings before, and while he missed his friend more than he liked to think about, Zechs’ perspective had more… _bite_. 

            Maybe he’d had a thing for Lu for a damn long time, but she’d only ever had eyes for Zechs, and he’d gotten over it years ago – it had always been obvious, to him, just how precious Lu was.  By the time the three of them turned seventeen, he’d come to terms with the fact that it was never going to happen, but they had an _amazing_ platonic relationship and she was still a friend he never wanted to lose; that Zechs would _eventually_ pair off with Lu, seeing as she’d been willing to wait him out… and in the end he’d chased her off anyhow. 

            _A woman like **that** , and so determined for **so** many years…_  

            He’d convinced himself, in the aftermath of _Libra_ , that she’d finally written off her dream prince as a worthless fuck and was avoiding him… and avoiding him too by association.  The alternative was unthinkable.  The alterative meant he would lose his job as the Regime crashed once he’d amended his mistake on _Libra_ , sentimentality or no.  The last time he’d talked to her, she was so _depressed_ … and he hadn’t exactly been helpful for more than chatter, placed on _Libra_ as he was.  If so much hadn’t been at stake, he would have tried to jump _Peacemillion_ , just to try to convince her that it was okay… but all the same, he’d opened a private, encrypted channel for them to talk.  They’d sat in isolated areas huddled up with the coms, making arguments about how they just needed to wait and watch, Zechs wasn’t _really_ going to do it – it was all a bluff.  They both knew how stupidly stubborn and determined Zechs could get once he believed something, he was as bad as Treize that way…  They’d talked themselves into such stupid circles, to the point that she’d almost convinced him to jump ship a few times…  Explaining to Howard how and why he was back on _Peacemillion_ would have required some fast talking, but he Howie was cool, and unlike the rest of his peers, _sane_ enough to have a little sense. 

            But…  Jumping ship meant losing the ace, if things went sideways, and as much as he’d _wanted_ their speculation to be right… he’d had his doubts.  Zechs had always been a little off beat, sure, and he played at intrigue like the King he was born to be, but… it had felt a little off, too.  Like there was a game going on just one level deeper that Jake hadn’t picked up enough of the rules to follow yet – and Zechs had _always_ had bad habits about taking liberties.  It had been just as easy to imagine that it was a bluff, but at the last minute he would _need_ Jake to swing the betrayal on the White Fang fanatics.  That he was already counting on it, as soon as he learned his old back-up was there.  Lu had hummed and conceded that one – he and Zechs hadn’t talked much in years, but neither had he and Otto, and while the prince had always reached too far or assumed too much… he didn’t forget, either. 

            But then there were the unspoken doubts, too – because they spent so much time waffling and theorizing for a reason, and Zechs was _more_ offbeat than he could remember him ever being before, and he couldn’t help but think that they still _needed_ a failsafe on the inside incase it all went to hell… 

            But he’d always had the same beliefs as the rest of them; _always_.  Lu loved him, and they had all believed he loved Lu, that they were going to get married soon and _Des was on Earth_.  There was no way that Zechs could possibly believe Lucrezia would still love him, no matter how forgiving and understanding she was, if he destroyed Earth.  Maybe Zechs would never be the altruist and pacifist his father would have wanted – and you know what, _fuck_ what fathers wanted, life happened and intentions only counted if you were _there_ to _make_ shit happen – but he’d always had a strong moral code, he’d _always_ cared deeply about a small group of people the same way Jake did, and no matter what happened, some things were always sacred. 

            He knew he had trust issues.  But he trusted in love –what else _could_ you believe in? – and so he’d put his instincts aside.  Treize played the leading man, and he’d taught them all how to play their own parts on the stage, after all.  His family was gone, but he’d built a new one, and the final step was to _trust_. 

            So he’d made the choice – despite _so_ many reservations – to trust the man after all, and not slash his throat and hide the body before his jaunt with Epyon. 

            And they all knew how well _that_ had gone. 

            Thankfully, Zechs didn’t realize there had ever been any debate.  It wasn’t as though there would have been any point in killing him _after_ the fallout, especially when he had seemed so frantic to try to pull everything together and save the planet.  He’d actually managed a fair bit of good since then, not that it changed what he’d already done.  And having seen the terror and disgust in the man’s eyes himself, Jake was willing to buy into the temporary insanity theory. 

            Believing that the man wasn’t still insane didn’t make him any more fit for power, though. 

            Relena sighed, and he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth as she leaned down and rested her forehead on the table, on top of her vaunted yellow pad of paper.  She always had one of those things on hand; she’d even had one the day he met her, and the only time she was more than a handful of yards from a pad was during that mess in Munich. 

            He loved her for what she had done without even stopping to think in Munich, but it really _had_ been a right mess.  The next time they pulled a stunt like that, they would have to organize it better. 

            And knowing the princess as well as he did now, something like that _would_ happen again. 

            “Jake?” 

            “Mm?”  She hadn’t picked up her head yet, but her tone was thoughtful as well as weary. 

            “Thank-you, again…  The other night, if you hadn’t-” 

            “It’s what I’m here for,” he reassured her.  “The idea play and paper-pushing is the bonus, not the other way around.”  This wasn’t the first time she’d brought up thanking him again out of nowhere, though; chances were, she meant to go somewhere with the thought but hadn’t quite gotten up the nerve or conviction yet. 

            Thankfully it was usually a matter of hours or days now for her to build it up, instead of weeks or months, like when he had first started working with her. 

            “I know that,” she murmured as she sat up and stared across the table, away from him.  “But it was terrifying, and so close…”  Sighing, she stood, moving towards the remains of the breakfast tray that had been brought up for them earlier. 

            Jake wanted to note that it hadn’t honestly been _that_ close, but he also wanted her to finally get to what had been on her mind the past few days.  He stood from his place on the couch and approached her from a different angle as she rolled it around in her mind some more, deciding that he could use another glass of water anyhow.  She was looking at the tray and not seeing it, so he poured her a glass as well.  They’d eaten everything but a slice of toast, so he held it up in question; she nodded a little absentmindedly, still staring off into nothing. 

            He had it half buttered when she came back to herself and met his eyes.  “What would you say if I told you I wanted to learn how to defend myself?” 

            _Don’t tell your brother._   Well, no, that probably wouldn’t be the best thing to say. 

            Instead, making sure not to hesitate, he asked, “In what way?” 

            “I should have been taught what to do when someone grabs me a long time ago,” she decided bluntly.  “Looking back, I’m not sure why my father never insisted I learn; a soldier tried to hold me hostage when I was eleven just because I was nearby and couldn’t get away.”  She paused, and her face hardened.  “And I want to be able to proficiently use a gun on short notice.” 

            “Fast, easy ways to cause pain and slide away so they’ll lose their grip and interest,” Jake reinterpreted.  “Those are easy but need a lot of repetition for you to be fast enough to be truly effective.  There’re a lot of soft spots and nerve clusters you can take advantage of, and because it’s _you_ , I would also want to include the potentially lethal movements.”  He met her eyes solidly, not wanting her to miss his point.  “If someone is trying to take you, the danger level is already that high.” 

            She considered only a moment before nodding resolutely.  She had been stewing on this for a while, from what he could read off her; her mind was long made up, Zechs be damned if he wanted to interfere.  He could see it in her eyes, the way she stood.  “And?” she asked simply. 

            “We can start some of that right away, and the boys and I can play test subject for it,” he continued, rolling it through his mind.  The idea of giving her a little basic training had long been with him, but he had known better than to be the one to bring it up.  She had needed to _want_ it herself for it to be worth anything.  Once she was somewhat good at it, it would be easier on his mind; he had every intention of keeping all her training, mild or not, covert.  It would become obvious eventually, but a thug not expecting the little Peacecraft to slam an elbow into his trachea the first time someone honestly tried to kidnap her might make all the difference.  “You’ll want to always have something sharp on you too, even if no one else realizes it is.  Actually, it’s preferable if it looks harmless.”  He’d find something appropriate. 

            She nodded again, completely agreeing.  “And?” 

            He smiled a little in a way that he knew was a bit more devious.  “We can’t start that until you have a clean bill of health.  I refuse to teach anyone one-handed first; your arm needs to be completely better.” 

            She smiled a little too then, with her own hint of smug troublemaking in it.  “That sounds lovely, then.” 

            “Are we hiding this from your brother?” he asked, genuinely curious if she thought she could get away with it. 

            “Well, we’re not going to _tell_ him,” she returned easily, taking the toast from him.  “There’s no reason to go out of our way to make sure he realizes.  If he learns of his own accord?”  She shrugged.  “I suspect we’ll be far enough along by then that he’ll bluster and mutter.” 

            He grinned outright at that; that was precisely the reaction he assumed they would get if Zechs caught them at it after a few firing lessons, and there was no reason the man should realize it was going on beforehand.  In all honesty, he would be relieved that she _could_ defend herself, for all that he would veto all training from the beginning should he be asked.  “Sounds good to me.” 

            “When do we begin?” 

            He frowned, considering her for a moment, before shaking his head.  “I can start explaining how some of it all works, but nothing practical until you’re out of the sling.” 

            She made an annoyed sort of face, but nodded; obviously she had expected as much but had been hoping otherwise. 

            Shaking his head a bit, he gestured for her to follow him back to the couch and, once she had sat with him, he pulled out his favorite gun.  “I’ve told you before, but for the sake of review,” he started, checking the chamber for a round and ejecting the clip, flicking the safety back on from how he’d automatically flipped it off when drawing, “This is a Daewoo.  She’s pretty gentle, and she’s what I learned on.  She doesn’t kick like most people would think just looking at her, she’s small enough to hide easy, and she can take some pretty major abuse without jamming.  Most importantly for you at this point, though, she’s well suited to small hands.”  Scooting a little closer to his friend, he gently placed the weapon in her hands with her fingers away from the trigger, pointing it at the floor between her feet.  “I’m sure you’ve always heard to treat any gun like it’s loaded or the safety’s off even if it’s fine, so make sure you never point it at anything you don’t mind putting a hole into, including your foot.”  Taking his hands away, he let her try to get a feel for the weight, for all that she couldn’t hold it perfectly with her arm as it was. 

            She nodded a little, eyes sharp as she looked the gun over, studying it.  “Small hands were important when you learned too?” 

            He shrugged a little; she knew enough of his history to put that one together, which meant she was fishing for an exact answer.  “I was four when I first picked up that gun for the sake of learning it,” he admitted, watching to see how she would react.  People could get very peculiar over that piece of news, but she had to have guessed for a while now. 

            It made him happy when she merely nodded thoughtfully, shifting the weapon a little in her hands, tightening her grip on it.  “Have you taught anyone else before?” 

            And that… killed it, entirely.  “Yeah…  I was helping teach Junior, before Jack got out of the slammer and won custody of me.”  He’d mentored in OZ too, refined plenty of sharp shooters, but…. Junior had been the only one where he started from the beginning.  Gritting his teeth and taking in a deep breath, he counted to three… and forced himself to let go of the pain.  _Not now._   He could drive himself straight down the rabbit hole for hours if he thought about it too long, so just… 

            He let himself focus briefly on the _happy_ memories – the kid all focused and leaning into him, letting Jake guide his hands and shift his stance while their old man talked off to one side – and couldn’t help the bittersweet smile as he let even that go and focused back on Relena.  “I was just shy of eight, the last time I saw him.” 

            She turned sympathetic eyes on him, and he took the gun back before she could forget she was holding it.  “I’m sorry,” she murmured.  “You weren’t allowed to see him after?” 

            Sighing a little, he put the weapon away.  “When our mom died, her older brother took us, and he and Jack and got on like rain and shine…”  He shrugged a little.  “I didn’t even know my uncle _wasn’t_ our dad, before 183.  There was a year or so in limbo after Jack found us, I guess, where they tried to make it work, but then, well…” 

            That year had been fucking _terrible_.  The fighting, then the _courts_ , and the tests, and then… then the _breaking_. 

            It had been twelve years, and that shit still hurt to think about even though he was old enough to know better, now.  Clearing his throat, he went on with, “I was only with my old man for maybe a year before I pissed him off enough and made connections with enough of the right people that I got him to drop me with the Specials.  I got ahold of my uncle after I’d been there a while, but Junior…  He turned five right at the end of it.  He was so _little_ , and the custody battle slogged on for so long, it was such a nightmare, he…” 

            Jake grimaced again.  “Fifteen months later, didn’t really remember the courthouse anymore… or me.”  He stopped for a second to swallow, trying to control the involuntary hitch rising in his throat.  “I decided he was already confused enough.” 

            Relena looked heartbroken and he shrugged, leaning back on the couch; it had broken his heart too.  There was a chance Junior might’ve just not remembered because he’d been little, but _he_ remembered the stress and freakouts in and out of the courtroom… and it was fair game, really, to say it was trauma.  By the time he was able to make contact again, the kid had apparently _just_ settled back into feeling comfortable in his own skin… and it wasn’t fair to turn somebody’s life topsy-turvy all the time. 

            He hated Jack.  He’d taken Junior away, as good as killed him, and then they _had_ been killed.  It wouldn’t have happened out the way it had if they’d had a third person on that job. 

            “Jake?” 

            “Let’s talk about something else,” he decided, pulling himself out of his brooding.  He _knew_ it wasn’t healthy.  “Which site do you have Dorothy at today?  I can’t remember.” 

-

***

-

**December 2 nd 197 – Saturday – Amsterdam, Netherlands**

            It was always adorable, watching Luc play with his daughter.  Rina kept the baby happy as a clam, but Luc made her giggle and squeal with delight.  Her mother absolutely the parent Renee preferred for general comfort when she hurt something, or when hungry or tired, but that little girl _adored_ her daddy. 

            It didn’t help that you could see that Luc enjoyed spending time with her as much as she did with him. 

            I was _so_ glad I’d gotten Rina to ditch Cal.  The guy had been a plague on society.  Whatever short-term hardship, Luc was the obvious long-term winner. 

            “You’re staring,” Shov informed me, elbowing me good-naturedly. 

            “It’s cute enough to warrant,” I defended easily, not bothering to glance his way as I tripped him.  He stumbled, but was used to me enough, after this long year and more, to catch himself – mind, he needed to use the arm of the couch to do it. 

            It was fairly early morning and all of us were heading out.  Well, no, Melissa had had night shift, so she was busy being practically as cute as the baby in refusing to wake up; she said she’d come to the shop this afternoon, along with a few amusing insults that were more off the wall than offensive.  It had only made me laugh harder before she’d thrown something at me.  At that point, of course, the only course of action had been to bounce back on the bed and start a snuggling war that ended in some mild touching before she sighed and fell back asleep. 

            I was constantly amazed at how well everything seemed to go with ‘Liss.  It was vaguely like Luc and Rina – now that there were no big secrets – only a hell of a lot quirkier.  I was pretty sure most girls didn’t fume about the properties of one brand of engine lubricant over another – normally I was under the impression it was supposed to be groceries or make-up that the guy had bought the wrong thing of.  I was good at those – and good at making what Melissa swore was a crap product work, even if she just about got herself blue in the face ranting about it.  Then she could fix some stuff faster than I could, or sometimes even challenged me to _race_ over something, and even though I usually won she was still _good_.  Then she’d demand I show her what I did different and we’d hang around being geeky over a broken up old AM/FM radio disc player for two hours and have to get the damn thing back together when we realize the owner was supposed to be picking it up in ten minutes. 

            It was nothing short of _awesome_. 

            I offered a half-assed salute to Luc when he looked back my way; he rolled his eyes and waved, taking the hint that I was more focused on my hot tea than getting a crack-of-dawn start, like his and Shov’s shift made them do.  Technically, I didn’t have to be at my shop until nine, and it was only six something.  I had woken up feeling far too awake to be healthy, and I’d been thinking about getting an early start too… but with the tea in hand and ‘Liss busy being a ball of blanket, I was far more inclined to go cuddle for a couple hours instead. 

            I _loved_ not having to sleep alone – having someone who’d instinctively cuddle back was a luxury I hadn’t had since everyone else got adopted out of the church.  I just hadn’t realized how much better it made me feel to have that until Melissa had given it back to me.  Combined with not having to ever worry about training, or about someone sneaking up and trying to kill me in the middle of the night, it didn’t matter how much of a hellhole the entire world, let alone _Amsterdam_ was.  It was heaven, plain and simple. 

            I felt kinda bad for the people we’d managed to put out of business by competition lately, but at the same time?  They could figure out how to make a way through.  I knew for a fact that they’d closed down before they started to lose money, so they had time before it really went downhill, if they couldn’t find something right away.  Relena was running stimulus programs every which way in this part of Europe, and a lot of it included lifting the job market.  There may have been a hunger riot in Ukraine, but Eastern was hardly Western Europe; we were having some rough patches, but if that shit was going to happen, it wouldn’t be until February. 

            The princess was actually due to come to Amsterdam in another three days for some sort of speech followed by more of her usual social work, as the restart of her tour.  She was going be right on schedule too, backtracking for the parts she’d missed once she’d finished what was already down for the rest of it so she didn’t screw up _all_ the locals’ plans.  She’d be working over part of Christmas, apparently, which probably sucked for her, but really, it’d do good for the public image; a _lot_ of people had to work Christmas, and it made her even more down to earth than she’d gotten to be already in the past year. 

            Not that I’d be poking my nose out of the house the day she was here.  Oh no.  I’d risked enough running off to see her in Germany – I wasn’t going to risk her seeing and knowing me in a crowd _here_ , and her bodyguard was good enough that while I knew I could get in to wherever she was to say hi privately, I wasn’t so sure about getting back _out_. 

            Luc and Shov though, among others not including ‘Liss, were supposed to be stationed in that area during it, and were looking forward to seeing the speech live.  They’d given me so much crap for my Germany run before – ‘Off to see a celebrity and not inviting any of us!’ – so hopefully this would sate them.  A few others were planning on going, but for the most part, anyone who gave a damn was planning on watching it live through a screen in one of the restaurants or pubs – treat it like an event proper by having a drink and something religiously deep-fried instead of packed into a crowd like beets in a can. 

            Me and ‘Liss would be working the shop, but she wasn’t interested and I couldn’t care less either; time with my girl was better spent. 

            It was like I could never spend enough time with her…  I pondered for what had to be the hundredth time as I took another pull of my tea and headed back down to my and ‘Liss’s room.  She was great to just hang out with, but she still _mesmerized_ somehow, even though I’d have sworn I’d know her inside out by now… and really I _did_ know her well enough that nothing surprised me anymore, so that didn’t even make sense.  The days we both worked in the shop, we settled into such an easy rhythm, and everything about her was comfortable.  Then there was that fierce pride I’d both seen in her when I realized she took down Cal on her own to save Rina, not to mention the others, and she just… 

            I wasn’t sure I’d _ever_ been so happy, let alone just because of one person.  I’d been dancing around the question of whether or not this was… was _it_ for a damn long while now it seemed, waiting to see if it faded off and watching, fascinated, as it just got _better_ instead. 

            Going quietly into the room, I sat on the far edge of the bed from Melissa and watched her as I finished my drink.  We’d been sleeping in the same bed ever since she’d moved down from the upper levels, but beyond some making out it hadn’t moved any further.  I was more than fine with that – trying to keep from getting confused and waiting for everything to come crashing down on us even as it steadily chugged along – but she’d tried to _apologize_ of all things, at first.  It had made me so _mad_ that she thought I’d just expect that, but, well…  Luc _had_ saved her from the red light district, and you didn’t come back from that kind of experience without getting a bit messed up.  She ought to have realized how fast I’d’ve bolted if she’d tried to jump me in bed, really, but some stuff sticks better than it ought to, and fears stay more than anything.  I should know. 

            Somehow, the fact that she had issues too made everything with her even smoother.  It meant she wasn’t going to expect too much from me.  She knew I needed time to realize it might all be okay, and I totally got that she needed… practically the same thing, only over stuff I always figured _should_ be that way.  When I’d tried to explain to the Father what I meant about why getting close to people spooked me sometimes, he’d said it could be called ‘intimacy problems’.  That had made me blush to the damn _moon_ with the insinuations, but had ended in a long explanation about how they were trying to help little Klara, the now four-year-old girl the church took care of, who had been abused by more than one male family member before social services had taken her from them.  It didn’t connect exactly out of context, but all the talking about what trust meant and what experience taught, no matter what you were told, had made it mostly clear in the end anyhow. 

            It was easy, once I looked back at how cynical I’d been before coming here, and realized now that it was really stupid to believe that everyone you got close to would die.  Looking back, I’d kinda known before it was just rotten luck, but I hadn’t _really_ been able to convince myself until after I’d become Chaos, then Kay for short, then Kasey von Koll.  I knew how much experience counted, especially about learning things… but I hadn’t understood how important it was to _everything_ in my head until the Father put a new light on it. 

            I got now, too, that a lot of my calming down, what got me really starting to believe I _wasn’t_ a damn god of death had been purely Melissa: when she had made me talk a little, tried to convince me it worked different, first as a friend then later as more.  And… Well, I had to admit she had a point, as time went on and she proved it over and over again.  I was _making_ new experiences now to base off of with all the Devils, though mostly ‘Liss, Rina, and Luc, and with everyone at the church – ones that would suit me better than the ones I’d grown up with, in a lot of ways.  I’d only learned what I absolutely needed to, before; now, I was getting a chance to learn everything else, the Father had said.  Not just how to survive, but live and be happy. 

            Father Espen was a sage sometimes, I swore.  Father Maxwell probably had been too, but I’d been way too young to learn what Espen was teaching, back then.  I was too much of a kid back on L2, and kids can’t learn the same way you can when you’re older, a lot of the time. 

            It probably also didn’t help that I hadn’t thought I had anything I really needed to learn then either. 

            Now, though…  Now Melissa was lying there being beautiful without even knowing it, and still as maybe perfect as when I’d told her who I’d used to be, after we’d saved Rina.  I’d even met her old man, and he and her brother didn’t have any issue with me beyond Will wanting to tell Treize where I was.  And hey, it wasn’t like anything bad had happened because of that. 

            Everything was… alright.  Even if all hell broke loose, I was pretty sure I’d be able to _make_ it be okay again somehow.  Something tracing back to knowing it could all be better than it had been before. 

            I couldn’t explain even in my head how confident, how _good_ that made me feel.  I was Kasey von Koll, I was Duo fucking Maxwell, and I was happy, but if you pissed me off I could take on the whole damn Regime.  Don’t _wanna_ , but I could do it and make it look good. 

            I wasn’t exactly sure when I’d lost my ego, but _damn_ it was good to have it back. 

            Shaking my head a little at my own bullshit, I took one last swallow before setting my cup down and tucking back under the covers, wiggling over so I could pull ‘Liss’s back to my chest and generally wrap around her.  She didn’t exactly wake up, but she sighed and wrinkled her nose a little before settling against me.  Smiling, far more proud of myself than this all really counted for, I settled myself in for a comfortable hour or two. 

            Anymore, I think I’d give anything up for times like this… 

-

***

-

**Brussels** **, Belgium**

            “You know, I don’t even care anymore,” Relena fumed, gently throwing the file she was holding so it would slide across the table and away from her without making a royal mess.  “He’s not even _listening_ when I go to talk to him now, and he’s out and out _ignoring_ my requests to authorize my tour continuing!” 

            “Is there a chance he didn’t realize he took away the authorization?” Jake asked.  He was leaning back on the couch to the point that his head was almost upside down off the back of it, Adam’s apple facing the ceiling. 

            Her bodyguard was _stupidly_ bored.  _And no wonder, with us tucked back in here all the time._  

            “Considering how he handed me the paperwork and told me how I was confined to the grounds when he did it, I’m doubtful,” she sneered.  Two years ago, she wouldn’t have believed she could speak with such dripping scorn about anyone, let alone about her own brother.  He’d been about to _crash a battleship into the planet_ , and the idea would have been scandalous. 

            _Nice to see how far I’ve come._   Sarcasm was contagious, it would seem, though with that thought, she wasn’t sure she was at all in the cynical frame of mind; it was simply _true_. 

            Jake, for his part, snickered, raising his head to a normal cant and looking at her with that grin as if to ask her, ‘Did you really, and I _missed_ it?’  She stuck out her tongue, to which he laughed again, before looking away and running his tongue over his teeth. 

            She watched him questioningly, curious if it was some of his playing around nonsense or something serious, and the longer he spent thinking about it before speaking up suggested the latter.  Getting impatient, she finally asked, “What?” 

            He looked back to her, mouth pursed, eyes a little too innocent to hide the deviousness.  “Want to make a break for it?” 

            _Seriously?_  “Can we?”  They were pretty deep inside the compound… 

            His grin was just trouble.  “I kinda want to show the security guys a thing or two, to be honest, and your brother’s being an ass.  He technically doesn’t have the rights to confine you, you could skate the legality on it…”  He tilted his head to one side, then the other.  “I’d have to start working on it now, but I think we could manage, if you want.”  She snickered again.  “It probably won’t work twice if you want to run away when the base is on lockdown some other time, but I think we could get away with it now.” 

            Hopefully her brother wouldn’t be so wholly _stupid_ as to try to confine her like this again; part of breaking away would prove the point.  Finding herself smiling back, she decided, “Why not.” 

            He shook his head a little, still grinning, before standing.  Walking to the door, he said, “Let me work on some stuff…  But we’ll need Dorothy, so get a hold of her?” 

            “I can have her back today,” Relena agreed.  Honestly, the other woman was starting to get bored surveying; she would probably thrive in whatever excitement they kicked up.  A bored Dorothy was not a problem she greatly enjoyed. 

            _And so we’re off on a brand new plot._   As soon as Jake came back, she’d have to dig the details out of him.  She was _not_ going to break her promise to be in Amsterdam on Monday. 

            Though she didn’t intend to stop needling Milliardo; either he would give in, or it would make the snub all the more effective. 

-

***

-

**December 3 rd 197 – Sunday – L1**

            “Well, I wish you good luck,” Dr. Loucks returned pleasantly enough.  She was better than some of the others they had pestered to meet, who were annoyed at being interrupted by a seeming sob story.  Most were sympathetic to a little girl trying to find her mother, if skeptical; they usually calmed down once they realized that all she was interested in was seeing their face, not any kind of charity, but it was nice when you could tell someone honestly felt some compassion for her over the whole mess. 

            “Thanks,” Marie returned, unable to help feeling a bit let down.  _Yet another dead end._   It felt like it would be forever before they found her.  They were almost done with all the unknowns in the L1 cluster, all without a sign.  It really _was_ going to be just the two of them for Christmas and New Year’s.  Not unless they found her mom within the week, at least; they had already talked about taking the holidays to themselves and having fun instead of fitting fun in around the searching. 

            Well, no, she’d suggested it to Odin and he had seemed curious and had had no protests.  She wasn’t sure if he entirely understood that it was because she didn’t want to spend Christmas finding another dead end and getting depressed about it.  _And hey, Christmas with just the two of us should be fun._   A little weird too, but that was just how anything worked out with them… and that was nice, in its own way.  _And hey, even if we never really get to hang out much after we find Mom, at least we’ll always have this winter holiday to remember.  It, and our birthdays back at the end of summer along with everything else._  

            They’d find her mom eventually, but until they did, they might as well have a good time. 

            She spotted Odin not outside the gift shop but in it instead, looking about at everything with his usual concentration, which meant that the clerk was starting to get antsy.  From the looks of things, the woman had probably asked him if she could help, or what he was looking for a number of times now, only to be rebuffed by Odin’s typical polite but still too intense way. 

            He didn’t usually creep people out anymore, but the clerk probably thought he was trying to find the perfect gift for his dying fiancée or something. 

            Knowing him, it was probably a hunt for some kind of chocolate.  Marlé had mentioned wanting some yesterday, but they hadn’t gotten around to finding a store with the overpriced goodness that was getting more and more rare.  She’d more meant it in passing as something that would be cool since she hadn’t had any since her grandfather took her from Meagan, but Odin just didn’t forget details.  She’d been starting to figure out, lately, that dropping hints about innocent things helped calm him down over time; that talking about any random thought or fun thing she saw helped him see more of the stuff he’d missed out on, before.  And once Odin got an idea in his head, he attacked said detail with all the attention of a rabid dog following a rabbit. 

            He really ought to have just asked the clerk instead of making her nervous, though; she would have told him where it was, or if they had any at all. 

            _Wait, wasn’t he muttering something about hospital gift shop similarities?_   Oh geeze, he was off on one of his whacky reconnaissance stunts.  Mentally, she recounted how many steps it had taken to get to the front desk, to the room she’d talked to the doctor in, then to here; he was probably going to ask.  Odin had ground it into her at some point to keep track of that kind of thing for stupid stuff, then how to estimate it in meters, just so she could measure out space without anyone noticing if it ever was important.  When she’d told him it was dumb, he’d challenged that she couldn’t keep track without making it looking obvious or like she had mental problems, and then, well… she’d had to prove him wrong.  Then sometimes he’d ask for the numbers and estimates at random and if she hadn’t kept track he’d be annoyed – in his very particular ‘Odin annoyed’ way that most people wouldn’t notice but was still super irritating – and it got to be habit.  Now, it wasn’t like it was any sort of hassle. 

            _If I never find a reason for knowing all that in the next five years, I’m going to give him crap.  Soooo much crap._  Odin taught her so much that was completely awesome, though, that she figured she couldn’t complain too much about some of the weirder stuff. 

            One of the cool things about being up in the colonies now was that the parkour had started focusing on different stuff.  Instead of the open areas they had worked with before it was with buildings and stairwells, bits of wall, climbing and jumping and falling.  She’d mostly gotten over any fear of falling…  even if she did fall, and she still did a fair amount, she knew _how_ to fall so it never _really_ hurt.  Sometimes she didn’t do it perfectly and bruised a bit, but it was happening less and less often and the pure freedom of flying through the air, or the adrenaline of chasing Odin through alleys and up walls, across bits of building…  She wasn’t anywhere near as fast as him on the ground,– Odin was _fast_ – but she was starting to catch up when it came to climbing and tumbling over and across things.  He said part of the reason was that she had less weight to worry about so she could go further with less work, and that part was because of his leg still being bad, but mostly that so much practice was starting to make her fearless, and that that was the most important step. 

            Once they found her mother she was going to insist that they get his leg checked out again and probably worked on.  He was doing great with it, but when they were at the Sronas she had cornered the doctor at one point and Samuel had admitted that it would probably need some basic reconstructive surgery eventually – that some of the ligament attachments were weak and that even with so much progress on reshaping them himself with regular therapy, Odin might still need some muscle work done as well.  Right now the two of them lived off the money Odin was teaching her how to digitally steal from here or there where it was likely to not be missed, and it kept them comfortable, but he’d need insurance or a _lot_ of money – or at least good connections – to get surgery done.  That and she knew him well enough by now to realize he wouldn’t sit still for a recovery until they were reunited with her mother, so that all worked out anyhow. 

            She’d even gotten Odin to talk frankly about surgery a few times and he wasn’t against it, even with all his pride; he just didn’t think it ought to be his top priority just then, and he was curious to see how much he could improve on his own.  He was more careful not to push it and have to recover for a while like he had chasing down the not Wufei Chang guy, but he was still starting to get as fast as all the stories about Heero Yuy from the war said. 

            Meeting his eyes as she came into the store, she shrugged a little and he nodded back; it wasn’t as if they hadn’t done this a hundred times already.  It usually was funnier when Odin stayed in the emergency room and tried to learn more about social interactions there than when he stayed in the gift shop, though.  He didn’t ever screw anything up, he wasn’t _that_ odd – anymore – but there were points sometimes where he just misunderstood bits of conversation and wanted to relay them to her later so he could understand. 

            Really, it was a good place for him to try figuring stuff out, because it was pretty normal for someone to clam up or be vague or to just stop wanting to talk in an ER, and he saw a lot of raw emotion there.  It was usually what people said when they were scared or desperate or hopeful for something to turn out okay beyond all reason that he asked about later, and even if it was awkward, she liked talking to him about it.  Part of it was that it put a whole new light on things for her too, but mostly, it made her feel like maybe she was helping and teaching him as much as he was her…  But a lot of it was that she was happy that he trusted her and her opinions enough to really just want to talk to her.  He was much more comfortable now, and seemed happier, than when they had first started to travel together. 

            It was great to see him smile and laugh; he did it the same way as someone who hadn’t done it so long that they’d almost forgotten how, and it made her feel good that she’d started to help him get back on track. 

            Odin was somebody special, to have tried to save the world and the colonies without it helping him back at all, and who still hadn’t lost his beliefs about doing whatever he had to, to do the right thing.  He’d taken her in despite how much trouble he had thought she might bring him at first, just because it was the right thing to do.  He didn’t regret it, even though if he hadn’t, he probably would have caught Xutao Chang that morning if he’d passed her by.  He said that his father had always been taught to follow his emotions, his heart, to never do something he would regret, and that was the code he was trying to live by again. 

            He’d tried to explain once, though he was super vague, that her grandfather’s people in Operation Meteor had tried to make him into some sort of perfect soldier – and that he’d believed he was, or at least, that he _had to be_ during the war, but that after _Libra_ and his leg he’d realized that there wasn’t any such thing as being perfect.  Or rather… that maybe what he’d been told was ‘perfect’ just wasn’t good enough.  That emotions weren’t a weakness – they were just as important as the rest, even if it had been hard for him to see that for a while… and that he was long out of practice. 

            She couldn’t imagine how awful it must have been, feeling like a broken, worthless _thing_ when his leg was ruined and he was on the run after _Libra_ but not even able to run by himself, after he’d always been the fastest, the best at everything he did.  He didn’t say how long it had been before he had changed his mind about everything, but she wasn’t dumb.  It couldn’t have happened quickly. 

            They walked out without getting anything, and Marlé watched the clerk roll her eyes and couldn’t help but smile a little to herself.  There wasn’t much that would interest either of them at a hospital gift shop, though knowing Odin he might have been trying to cook up ideas for a Christmas present. 

            She was honestly curious about what he would decide to do; it was impossible to say, with Odin.  He might do something utterly practical, something typically gift-like now that he was getting a better idea of what gifts were _for_ , he might try to have them do something more uniquely fun – which might be more random than anything, knowing him – or he might just be completely on the wrong track and just do something _weird_. 

            It would be interesting, whichever way. 

            “L5-C1936 is putting up a big tree on the fifteenth,” Odin noted as they left the building. 

            Marlé blinked, then grinned.  “Really?  Sort of a silly thing to make.”  It would look amazing, though, all decorated like the ones she’d seen pictures of when she was little – the giant Earth trees, set up in big town squares. 

            He shook his head, smiling slightly.  “They didn’t make it.  They brought it up through atmo: one of the really big ones.” 

            Odin’s smile widened a little as he saw and she felt her eyes light up like… well, like a kid in front of a Christmas tree!  “The whole _colony’s_ got to smell like it!” she exclaimed, the idea just… wow.  _Evergreen smell **everywhere** , what a Christmas…_ 

            “They were also planning a snowfall on Christmas day,” her brother continued, more than happy to watch her as she got to be more and more excited.  “It won’t last more than a day or so, but they were planning a fair amount of festival stuff for the day after too.” 

            Marlé grinned.  “So…  once we wrap L1, we do L5 next?” 

            “Sure.”  His indulgent smile, along with the more and more casual speech patterns they had gotten into, were just… nice.  Whoever they’d been before July, Odin was her _brother_ now, and nobody knew him better than she did; even when he was stern he liked to dote on her like most big brothers or uncles would.  He was stupidly practical unless you talked him out of it – though that was getting easier – but he cared more than a lot of real relatives ever bothered to, and just towards _everybody_.  His focus for that was mostly centered on her now, but the amazing thing about Odin was like he just didn’t see the _difference_ between saving a misfortunate kid on the street like she had been or going head to head with all authority that _existed_ without any back-up.  The guy just…  Once he decided he cared about something, he dove in headfirst and there was no pulling him off on a different trail. 

            She was more than a little curious about what would happen once they had found her mother; once Odin was healed the rest of the way and he started really fighting again.  Whatever had happened at _Libra_ , you just didn’t lose with someone like Odin on your team, because he never gave up.  Some people said the gundams had failed at _Libra_ , but she’d always heard it that they were the only reason the _entire_ planet wasn’t gone instead of just the Americas.  That hardly counted as having _lost_ , not with so much at stake.  Once he started fighting again, and if any of the other four were alive and picked it back up, once everything was calm enough to bring the issue to bat…  It was _really_ going to be something.  She was learning constantly, but it was only a tiny piece of what Odin knew and could do… 

            She was going to love seeing him and all the others like him in action, one day. 

            “I’ll arrange the flights tonight,” Odin decided.  “Our shuttle to the next colony over isn’t until morning, though.”  He tilted his head in question.  “There’s a range nearby; we shouldn’t bring in anything of our own, but we can rent and you can get a better feel for different calibers and makes.” 

            “Alright,” she agreed easily.  They’d probably end up playing around with fighting or parkour afterwards, but she needed the shooting practice, and she’d still be able to do all the rest with aching hands and tired arms if they stayed late.  And parkour at night was beyond exhilarating to boot.  “Can we try that Thai place we saw earlier for dinner?  I’ve never had Thai food.”  He shrugged in his easygoing way, meaning yes, and she blinked, wondering.  “Have you?” 

            “I don’t think so, but maybe?”  He shrugged again, tilting his head to one side then the other.  “I don’t mind trying.” 

            Marlé grinned at that; however blasé he was acting about it, she knew Odin _loved_ new things.  The guy was as much a sponge sometimes as a toddler could be. 

            He chuckled a little in his throat, amused that she was amused, before gesturing at a post across the parking lot.  “How far is that?” 

            Marie frowned.  “I haven’t walked it,” she tried to protest.  He hadn’t mentioned anything like- 

            “You’ve been keeping track of your own pace for a while now, and you’re good at telling real distance from that.  Estimate.” 

            _Oh crap, the useless stuff is really just build-up to maybe useful stuff…_   She really ought to have seen that one coming.  “Um…”  She bit her cheek, considering.  “Maybe… thirty meters?” 

            Instead of correcting her this time, or simply saying if she had it or not, he stopped walking and gestured with his head.  “Go check; I’ll wait here.” 

            Rolling her eyes, she grumbled, “I thought we were going to the range.”  She kept walking and counting all the same. 

            “We’ll get there,” he returned dryly.  “You should be able to estimate this; it’s important.” 

            “You could have just told me I was wrong,” the girl called back over her shoulder. 

            Odin made an amused noise.  “Who says you’re wrong?  You guessed, so _you_ need to see how far this was, thirty meters or not, and start learning to recognize it.  It’s like with tumbling, you can’t learn from being _told_.” 

            _A **lot** of your lessons could just be **told** ,_ she grumbled to herself.  Of course, she would never remember them as well as when they did this sort of stuff, and she could see the logic behind what he was saying; that didn’t make it any less annoying.  At least maybe now he’d stop asking for how many paces she took everywhere, would maybe keep it all in meters… 

            _Aw geeze._   Once she got good at this he was going to start her learning on how fast she could cover the distances, wasn’t he?  _I need to start running more…_   It made sense, even when he turned it all into baby steps so sometimes it looked pointless, but she couldn’t really deny that she was learning, and fast too.  And if she wanted any chance of trying to keep up…  _May as well finish the measure at a run; got to get used to that too, might as well start before he asks._   He always got that insanely proud look when she read ahead of what he was asking, and like any little sister or teacher’s pet would, she liked to preen under it. 

            Well, until the next time he got irritating about something dumb and they started all over until she realized why it _was_ worth it and raced to outstrip his expectations. 

            And at any rate, it would be nice to see and work with guns other than Odin’s Daewoo. 

-

***

-

**December 4 th 197 – Monday – Brussels** **, Belgium** **– Early Morning**

            Milliardo sighed, checking the clock.  It was almost seven…  Relena was probably ready for her day by now; even with her current medications, she usually was still up at the crack of dawn, and had only been compensating by taking a nap in the afternoon.  She hadn’t been as thrown by the experience as he had initially worried, having a place that was supposed to be safe for her so violated and to be as hurt as she was…  Relena may have never been shot before, but _he_ knew how terrible it felt, let alone the first time it happened.  And she _did_ see this as a safe house, having come back against her schedule already for a ‘night at home’ as she had put it, however badly that had played out. 

            But it was as though she just… wasn’t bothered, not at all.  He had even asked Jake, discretely, if there was much difference in how she was treating this recovery compared to Munich.  When the answer had been that it was almost identical, even with the disparity in the severity of the injury, he had thought that perhaps she was still in a mild state of shock; that she needed the time to cope, or at least to _realize_ that she needed time to cope before going back out, no matter what she thought. 

            But then nothing had changed beyond her getting more and more snippy with him, and he’d tried to figure out why.  Maybe the events in Munich had helped prepare her?  They had found what they hoped was the source of the child human trafficking ring those two boys had belonged to, but that was hardly the only one out there, and that fact alone was hard for _him_ to swallow, let alone a young woman who had led a more sheltered life.  She had put herself in danger without even _considering_ the consequences, though at least Jake had said he would start trying to cement more of those ideas into her for the future… 

            But then he’d happened on the fact he’d been looking for and wanted to groan.  Princess of Sanc or not, Relena _had_ been raised by the Darlians, who, pacifists or not, had kept at least one gun and allowed their daughter virtually any freedom and privilege she asked for, even in dangerous situations.  Darlian had _known_ about Operation M, had _seen_ a _gundam_ come up behind his shuttle and land in what was almost their _exact_ trajectory… and still let his daughter walk home alone just because she was upset and wanted to.  She had incidentally met Heero Yuy for the first time on the way home.  She was allowed to invite whoever she wanted to a birthday ball _inside_ the Darlian estate, _including_ the boy soldier she’d found half-dead on the beach who later _announced_ to her that he wanted to kill her.  She had followed him out to where he was trying to launch _missiles_ at God only knew what before he was _shot down_ by a party she claimed to be unable to identify… before she _called Pagan_ and had him take them to an Alliance hospital and declared herself his _girlfriend_.  She’d done _investigative work_ to find him and Duo Maxwell once he’d transferred schools.  Then somehow she had managed to follow him to the duel Milliardo had set up in _Antarctica_ after most of the pilots had all returned to _space_ so she could get right in the middle of the _battlefield_. 

            When he stopped and thought about it, the fact that his little sister was both utterly relentless and had no _concept_ of what fear even _was_ shouldn’t surprise him.  He’d dismissed it before as teenage recklessness and not realizing how dangerous this or that situation honestly was, with her childish naïveté, but no…  It might just be a part of her personality. 

            It made him even more glad that he had agreed to have Miller watch her.  As he’d proven the night of the attack, Jake could keep up no matter her latest wild idea. 

            With that realization, however, he had had to admit that there was no point in keeping her here against her will when she had a solid stance.  Grimacing as he stood to make his way out of his suite he decided, _She can head out tomorrow and get started again on Wednesday._   She would likely need the rest of the day to get everything set up.  He’d been an ass about it too, and an apology was due. 

            Once in the hall he paused, considering.  Relena liked to do her more informal work, brainstorming and communicating with RLTT, out of her suite, but she still kept an office down in the main for when she was working with others, preferring to keep her rooms as more a private space than he did his.  Jake normally kept guards outside as well as staying inside, sometimes with one of the others on his team; they weren’t there down the hall, so they were probably down in the main compound.  It was a little unusual for her to be out this early, but not unlike her. 

            When he didn’t find her in her office he checked his watch again; it _would_ be like her to go have breakfast in the regular cafeteria. 

            When she wasn’t there, he assumed she had already eaten and was going from office to office again trying to piece together her latest project, rounding out all the details before letting him even get a glimpse of it. 

            When she didn’t answer her cell phone it was a little worrisome; normally Jake would answer if she was busy, or Dorothy if she had decided to tag along with them that day.  _Maybe she slept in after all?_   It was odd that the guards weren’t outside, but if she had decided to stay in, the men might be in her living room area; sometimes they all took breakfast in there.  _Maybe Jake is starting to finally **trust** some of the new security measures being put in…_  

            It wasn’t until Dorothy answered the door to Relena’s rooms and he couldn’t see anyone else with her that alarm bells started going off.  When in residence and not sleeping, Dorothy was virtually _welded_ to the younger Peacecraft. 

            He also didn’t see Jake, and unless he was out of line of sight somehow… he _knew_ the colonel had an ingrained habit about watching doors. 

            Barely sparing the Romefeller heiress a glance at her too friendly ‘good morning’ he slammed the door out of her grasp and waltzed into the room, glancing around quickly for a reaction: one that didn’t come.  No one started at the sharp noise, no movement. 

            _No one’s here_. 

            He didn’t really hear Ms. Catalonia’s protests as he slammed into the bedroom area, almost hoping that everyone had cleared out except for her because Relena was having some torrid affair, but while one fear was thankfully banked, the rest grew worse; the bed was perfectly made.  Housekeeping didn’t come through until nine at the earliest, and the coverlet was even folded in the exact pattern it normally was in his room…  She hadn’t slept here. 

            He ran his mind back through what Dorothy had been trying to say; it was all nonsense, words meant to stall him.  Taking a deep breath, he ignored her again and tried to make his blood pressure calm back down.  Relena was gone; if she was on base, Dorothy either would be with her or would explain what was _really_ going on in short words, not going on and starting to look like a panicked poodle. 

            On the other hand, Jake was gone, as were her guards, and Jake had more than proven that he was good at his job… 

            Realization struck like the hammer of some Nordic god and it was hard to _not_ see red.  His voice cold, he cut off Dorothy’s rambling excuses.  “They’re in the Netherlands, aren’t they?”  They had talked Dorothy into staying behind as damage control… and indeed, if he hadn’t changed his mind about his behavior of the last two weeks, there was no way anyone would have been alerted before she was stepping onto the stage in Amsterdam.  _Miller…_   He knew Jake was damned crafty enough to trip his way out of the base, but he hadn’t considered that he could manage it with Relena as well.  _Did they pull a Cleopatra and put her in a damn carpet?!_   He didn’t know now, but he would soon.  Storming out of the suite and slamming the door in Catalonia’s face he just… boiled.  He wanted to _kill_ Miller… 

            And yet he knew the other man well enough that he wouldn’t have _done_ it unless his charge was all for the idea.  It was hard to say whose idea it might have _originally_ been, what with how closely the two worked and how thoroughly he had managed to infuriate his sister, but- 

            _How **dare** she?_   Outright defying him like that when it was for her own damn _good_ , when he was just trying to keep her _safe_?  There had been domestic and civil cases for violence sited all over the place not even mentioning the embezzling, the increased number of people going missing, the vandalism of politicians’ houses…  People were starting to go half mad, looking at a winter with such impossibly yawning jaws.  Flirting the edges of what was acceptable was well and good when there _weren’t_ people out for blood on every street corner! 

            “Sabetta!” he called as soon as he came into his rooms again, looking for his aide; the efficient woman wasn’t even startled by him, merely raising her brows in question as to what was he wanted from her _now_.  Normally he rather appreciated her dry humor and implied sarcasm, but he just wasn’t up for it at the moment.  He didn’t trust Mary Jean Sabetta overmuch, but she had proven some amount of loyalty, if not bravery, upon immediately barricading herself and all the highly confidential paper records she could get her hands on in an out of the way room during the attack.  She had been one of his aides before that, not a stranger to him, but it was sobering to know people’s priorities when everything they knew went out the window. 

            Realizing his mood, she apparently decided to simply be an aide instead of joining the peanut gallery for the day.  “Sir?” 

            “We’re sending a contingent to Amsterdam, and I’m going too.  I want to be gone in half an hour; we can pick up more personnel closer to our destination if necessary.” 

            She gave him an odd look but didn’t ask, and immediately hopped out of her chair, verifiably dashing out the door – apparently that tight skirt didn’t constrict as much as it looked like it did – yanking her cell phone out of her purse.  She would get it done, he was sure… she was a woman on a mission.  Noin and Une had taught him how much pure determination and gut could count. 

            Snarling, he gave into the urge and threw the ottoman across the room…  And grimaced, trying to catch his breath again as the grafts pulled and the pain shocked through his torso… and then he had to sit, then lay, on the _floor_ because he’d just thrown the closest thing he could sit on.  He could barely hiss his breath through his teeth…  Everything he’d done during the attack had aggravated the old injuries more than was even vaguely foreseeable, but he _couldn’t_ fall into a week or two of seclusion now, with everything that was going on, and _now_ his fool of a sister was going to get herself killed _with_ Miller at her side if she thought she could just _do_ bullshit like this.  Even if he’d been about to let up on canceling, he didn’t want her going into the hotspot that was the _Netherlands_ for another week or two, that was why he’d been willing to let her go on Wednesday, not _today_ … 

            Fighting for breath he just stayed there for a minute, praying that no one tried to come in before he put himself back together.  _At least Sabetta closed the door on her way out._   He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on the pain, on forcing his lungs to move the way they needed to even if they didn’t want to…  It _hurt_ so much, especially after he’d been doing so much to get better before, he _hated_ this, the pain, the feeling so helpless… 

            _Yuy must be laughing now,_ he couldn’t help but think, grinding his teeth.  Following the traceries of pain helped sometimes, but if he could just force it out of his mind that would work too… he needed to get up, before someone could see him here, before it could get out, before Yuy could _really_ laugh.  The tenacious young pilot had _crippled_ him and didn’t even stay around to pay for it…  Didn’t have any problem sliding through his fingers even though he’d been fighting just as hard even after they hit the atmosphere and the electronics started to lose their integrity…  He’d have sworn he saw, maybe just heard, something explode and a fire start through the vid connection inside Wing Zero, but it wasn’t as though there was any evidence to show it wasn’t just what was happening inside Epyon, and that his head had started playing with him at that point…  

            Gritting his teeth harder, he forced himself onto one side and began fighting to get his breath again, sliding one hand against his neck to feel his pulse.  _Damnit, too fast…_   He tried to fight for longer breaths, tried to calm his breathing to calm his heart…  That pacemaker was going to earn its keep in his chest one of these days, God _damn_ it all.  He was going to make a full recovery eventually, but it was just taking so long, and he’d never be fit enough for MS atmospheric entry again no matter how much strength he regained. 

            He was going to get better.  He _would_ …  Relena would be safe if he had to pull her off a damn stage himself to keep off any assassination attempts.  _An open air speech!_   The idea made his stomach turn after what had happened three weeks ago, he didn’t care if it hadn’t been aimed specifically at her.  She wouldn’t have changed the timing of the damn thing, he’d be able to _get_ there in time, he just had to get _up_ … 

            He would do whatever he had to… he _had_ to, after everything…  And he’d keep Relena safe no matter what. 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	36. Pandemonium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Best laid plans...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major edits beyond grammar here are to Relena's initial thought processing in the first scene and additional material in Leia's exposition. 
> 
> *takes a deep breath* Here we go!

**-**

_**Pandemonium** _

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**December 4 th 197 – Monday – Amsterdam, Netherlands – Roughly 7:00am**

            Relena stared at her phone. 

            _He… he **called**._   He had tried to call her, and he _never_ called her when he thought she was on base – he had a penchant for wandering all over the place looking just to avoid the phone, even though he knew she always carried it…  She tended to do the same thing.  Phones were too impersonal, at least when you _could_ talk face to face; it was one of the reasons he thankfully hadn’t pushed too hard for her to teleconference instead of traveling the continent. 

            “Lena?” 

            Jake was frowning at her, and instead of answering she simply held up the phone with its reading of _‘Missed call: Milliardo Peacecraft’_ and watched his face go from curiously worried to sheepishly caught out.  “Huh.” 

            “I can’t call him back,” she reminded him quickly. 

            “Yeah, if he’s calling that means he’s trying to find you, and the most time you’d get out of _that_ goose chase is maybe twenty minutes, if anything at all.” 

            She gave him an annoyed look.  “Obviously.  And I can hardly risk him giving direct orders for you all to take me back; either we would have to leave or he might court martial you.”  She was fully aware that leaving the base the way they did had put her guards on thin ice; their only saving grace was going to be forcing her brother to lay the responsibility on her, should trouble come of it.  Technically, all of her guard answered to _her_ , not Milliardo, but he had more power and could overrule her orders. 

            The colonel gave her an amused look, though she could see – from the way he was standing, relaxed and not _quite_ in her space but close enough for scent, from the soft turn of his lips even as he gave her a more raucous smirk – that he was grateful she was trying to protect him.  Most of what Jake said was in his body language like that.  “You really think Zechs can get away with court martialing me?” 

            He was genuine, now… she had seen him do exactly this in mimicry, lying with every breath and twitch of flesh, but she had learned, since Spain, how to tell when he was true or playing, somehow.  She couldn’t put words to _how_ she knew… but while he had a habit of layered deceptions and tricks through everything he did, she _knew_ when he was being entirely sincere. 

            It was just… significantly more rare than she used to believe.  _And yet, David and I are the only people I’ve ever seen him do it for._   Because Jacob Miller was possibly the most finicky man she had ever met, when it came to matters of trust.  _I lucked out, there._   It had been a series of blunders, really… but if it had won her Jake’s loyalty, that lone would have been worth it.  _And it’s been so much more._  

            She was almost positive, how, that their meeting hadn’t been nearly so coincidental as it had felt – he had sought her out with purpose.  _Poked and played with me the same way I watch him do with everyone else…_   But she couldn’t find a reason to be upset about it.  It was hardly a crime to get to know a person before deciding if you wanted to work with them, after all – to see if you could make an ally as well as a friend, and gain something from a relationship the same way you gave to it.  Jake was subtly manipulative as a part of his nature.  The closer she got to the source of it, though, the more she realized it was a peculiar sort of coping mechanism – that instead of abruptly changing everything about himself as a child, he had learned to wear emotions like masks to disguise… to change what everyone else saw while he struggled to reconcile the truth below. 

            _Fake it ‘till you make it_ , she mused.  _He won’t speak of his childhood before Jack because there’s something he wants to hide.  He protects our perceptions of him even when he tries to lay it bare… it’s so **instinctual** for him, I don’t think he could stop even if he wanted to._   If he was unwilling to share, then it was because he thought she wouldn’t approve – and no wonder, because the things David said he was capable at such a young age… that alluded to so many dark possibilities.  It was obvious that he had _loved_ his family deeply, that he had no impression of ever being mistreated there…  _Yet still._   It painted an ominous visage. 

            But like David, said, wherever Jake had come from, that wasn’t who he _was_ , at least not today.  _And I can’t really say I mind his manipulations so far._   She could see the goals behind them, how they’d unfurled and spread so naturally it was hard to believe it was a game of chess the man was playing…  _So reminiscent of Treize._   And yet not.  However deftly Treize had woven his plots and schemes, even if his goals were noble, he hadn’t cared about the collateral.  Her bodyguard’s touch was so much more gentle, more personal…  She hadn’t minded working with Treize, truly, but _trust_ …?  He was right to hold it in such reserve.  If the war had taught her anything, it was just how precious trust was. 

            It still only went so far, between him and her.  But that was alright too.  _We have time._   Maybe someone else would rail at her realizations, but more than anything, she couldn’t help but admire the… utility?  The efficiency, all the benefits Jake had brought to her life.  For all that he had slammed her rudely out of her dreams and into the real world, he’d worked tirelessly to equip her for it emotionally.  He’d been ready to catch her every time she stumbled.  He had or so _carefully_ forced her to grow more quickly than she might have believed possible let alone accomplish on her own, curbed what she could see in hindsight might have easily turned into naïve missteps… 

            He had helped her learn to believe in herself again after everything at _Libra_.  He pulled resources seemingly out of thin air that she never would have even thought to imagine _existed_.  She _couldn’t_ mind the games he had played with her, the intricate knots he’d woven around and between them, because that would negate what they had _done_.  Instead, all she could do was hold on tighter, keep looking forward… because she could only see glimpses of the long-term rewards of the things they had already done, let alone what came next.  _And I want to see them together.  I want to see everything we’ve wrought, and all that we still have left to do._  

            The past nine months felt like years, so much had changed. 

            Without Jake…  _Would I have dared for China?_   Maybe, perhaps… but later, when it would have been too late for the summer crops.  _RLTT came to me **because of China**._   That day he had approached her and Dorothy in the cafeteria, she had had so _many_ ideas, but little ability to enact them.  Jake had been the key to helping her make them all _real_.  His confidence had been the push, over and over again, to bring her out of her brother’s shadow.  _Would I have ever come this far?  Even if I did…_   Dorothy had caught her out so easily, last April.  _Milliardo might well have caught me out by now, if I hadn’t begun to learn some fraction of Jake’s finesse._  

            But above all…  He had filled in a gap she hadn’t known what to do about, after _Libra_.  So many times in her life – especially during the war – she had had to force herself to shake off the urge to cry and move on, to find something worth fighting for before she could crumble… and when Milliardo had sent her into isolation, he had taken that away from her.  That long year where she had indulged in the finest luxuries left to mankind, she had felt nothing less than _broken_ , unable to find a purpose or a way to move on… and it was hard to not feel worthless, when someone put you away on a shelf and never looked back.  Milliardo had meant well, she thought, but with every change of scenery without so much as a phone call, she had lost more and more of her conviction. 

            Coming back she had known, of course, that confidence, pure unshakable poise was absolutely critical to success… but it was one thing to know, and another entirely to feel safe enough – accomplished enough – to truly _believe_ you could write history in your own favor. 

            Dorothy had been a start, but it had been _Jake_ who gave that back to her. 

            “Daydreaming?” 

            She offered him a small smile in response to his pleasant expression and slightly canted head: his blue eyes pierced too deeply for the question to be idle, though.  _He’s curious._   He probably thought she had some idea of what to do about her brother, or at least that she was trying to piece it out.  Or there was that hint of impatience, suggesting that if her head really _was_ up in the clouds that it was damn well time to remove it because they were about to have an enraged warrior prince on their trail. 

            _That, or that I need to learn ‘to dream and think at the same time’, as he sometimes claims._

            “How much can we move up the schedule without substantial upset?” she asked, half thinking out loud. 

            “Question for the locals,” he dismissed, leaning back against the wall.  They were in a little meeting room off some official’s office, presumably for her to organize and stay out of sight until her appearance.  Honestly, she would have been happier with a hotel room or at least a lounge, something with a soft place to sit, but that had not occurred to the locals, and she was loathe to hurt any feelings grown out of good intentions. 

            “Get someone on it,” she decided.  “As much as can be afforded without killing the effect; I want to be good and busy when he tries to storm in.” 

            Jake let out an amused chortle and motioned for her to stand away from the door while he opened it and beckoned in the signing talk the soldiers sometimes used.  Rome and Lincoln both came, looking curious; Lin was trying to tuck the newspaper he’d been reading into the back of his waistband, presumably where it would be a little more difficult for his commanding colonel to seize and smack him with for reading on the job. 

            Relena shook her head a little and gestured for him to hand it to her.  While Jake had a point about paying attention, she liked that Lin made an effort to get a solid grasp on the news every morning, international and local, and that he would share with her.  Fixing her primary bodyguard with a look as she took the paper – seeing as he was giving _her_ a pointed look – she said, “Don’t be mean; it’s not like he does it when he’s alone on shift, or as if he’s a deep reader.”  Lin was one of those people who could hold a perfectly normal conversation while reading, never missing a beat. 

            The blonde colonel gave her a look as if to say ‘Did you really just try to pull that on me?’ and shifted to cross his arms, hips ajar, giving them all a tolerantly amused sort of expression.  “Obviously; I’m not blind.”  He darted over fast as lightning and slugged a fist into Lincoln’s stomach, making him double over and gasp.  Rolling his eyes and relaxing again, he finished with, “But so long as he can’t fend me off while _holding_ a damn piece of paper, let alone reading it, he’s just going to have to keep trying.” 

            _Ah._   Of course, Jake was _always_ working with these men he had chosen as her guards, trying to teach them…  teach them the same way she had asked him to start teaching her, once she was healed. 

            The thought was mildly alarming, in all reality… but Jake was obviously an effective teacher, and the reality of the _world_ was upon them. _Ignorance may be bliss, but knowledge is power and ability is **finesse** : the thing that makes the difference between what is wished for and what is **done**._  

            “At any rate, Zechs is on our trail and possibly the warpath, so I’m going to go stir things up and see what we can counter with – but Lena needs to stay here.  People trying to crowd her will just cause more trouble if we can’t pull this off.”  He met her eyes and smiled in his easy, confident way.  “Call me if you work out something else, and I’ll keep you posted.  Dorothy’s going to be calling one of us in a minute, I suspect; let’s keep the information spread between us.  It’ll take him time to get here if he’s decided to play parent, so we’ve got a window to work with.” 

            “And when he catches us?” Jerome asked soberly.  “I know you planned for it, but what repercussions are we going to find ourselves in?”  With the ‘we’ he had gestured at himself and Lincoln, referring to the rest of the guard. 

“I’m taking responsibility,” Relena told him.  “It was my decision, and you were following orders down your chain of command.” 

            “And if he doesn’t like that one as much as he should,” Jake added, his playfulness gone for a moment, “Then _I’ll_ take responsibility.”  He tilted his head slightly.  “There’s a fairly good chance he already has the idea to pin all the blame on me, and it’ll be like how I kept you from questioning before; he believes in that kind of command and loyalty.  Though we’d still be best trying to put it all on the princess’ plate…”  He smirked, turning back to her.  “I could back our story on a polygraph – that might do the trick.  A slap on the wrist for us both, a few lectures, and he’d probably even give me more power to ‘make you be sensible when you got another of these ideas’.  By the time we pull some bullshit again he’ll have realized it was a mistake because I’ll just take advantage, but he’s likely to not realize I like you better than him just yet.” 

            He said all of the last in such a delighted epiphany way that Relena just stared for a moment, the implications hitting home more than the words themselves.  It wasn’t as though she didn’t _know_ that Jake simply did whatever he liked and just found a way to get away with it, or that he was such a comfortable liar that- 

            “You can lie to a lie detector?” Lincoln whispered, looking like he was trying to decide if he was horrified or awed. 

            Rome had his eyes narrowed as he smirked.  “I _knew_ it…  _That_ was how you got free of the Torraines case, wasn’t it?”  When Jake only chuckled, the other guard shook his head.  “Cassidy owes me fifty.”  Jake just snickered more. 

            Relena wanted to put her head in her hands or scream, she couldn’t decide which.  She _remembered_ her father talking about how the only lead that came up for investigating the assassination of Minister Torraines of Financial Affairs of the Alliance had turned out to have an absolutely flawless polygraph test for a young freelance soldier on vacation despite all the coincidences lining up.  “You killed Torraines?” she found herself asking quietly. 

            Jake frowned.  “It didn’t go like I’d planned, or they never would have found enough to question me in the first place.” 

            _And then there’s that._   Every time she thought she had a handle on Jake, he’d say or do something to pull the rug out from under her again.  Her stomach twisted itself into a knot. 

            His frown deepened, and he took a step closer, looking deep into her eyes.  “You don’t know what he was _doing_ , do you?”  He shook his head, the motion gentle.  “Never plan to kill someone without knowing the whole story, Lena…  That’s how you end up hating yourself for the rest of your life.”  He looked away.  “Even not to do with killing, it’s the same rule…  _know_ what it is you’re doing, and what you’re not, and make sure you’re going to be _okay_ with that down the line.”  Meeting her eyes again, jamming his hands in his pockets, he offered her a bittersweet sort of smile.  “Not that you need to be told, but follow your heart and make sure you can live without regret.  Even if no one remembers or cares after you’re gone, you’ll have your own peace; too many host a colony-full of demons from their pasts.” 

            That eased the tightness in her belly, even as she knew she would be asking him to explain everything about Torraines to her later, to better understand the crueler side of the world everyone had always tried to shield her from… 

            Jake would always protect her, but he never offered a blindfold. 

            _Hopefully my lessons will come easier than Jake’s did._   She could _see_ the pain etched into his bones…  It was the same with her brother, in Heero and Duo and Quatre.  She could see that they had learned everything the hard way, instead of having a teacher.  _All that work and pain should come to help **something** , to ease them…_  Mistakes and horrors of life were things to be learned from, but they could be learned second-hand, if the student cared enough. 

            She already lived for no regret: her father had taught the same principle.  And she remembered Heero after he had killed all those pacifists on the OZ shuttle, when he had been tricked into thinking it was all those who wanted more war on board instead.  She had sat and talked with the Noventas some time after Heero had offered a gun to Silvia in an attempt to escape his demons and make reparations for what he had done, knowingly or not.  She had hunted him down in Antarctica to give him the letter from Mrs. Noventa just to try to offer him some peace from the self-loathing he had gained after waking up from his self-destruction and finding himself alive yet _another_ suicide attempt. 

            Jake was looking to her, waiting for a response… his face was neutral, eyes sad, body worried.  She offered him a smile and moved forward to peck him on the cheek.  “I trust you,” she reaffirmed, as much for her sake as for his.  Smiling more brightly, she teased, “Now get gone and do my bidding, Colonel.” 

            He grinned back, looking relieved, and tapped her on the nose with one finger in play.  “Of course, Princess.”  And with that, he dashed out the door. 

            Before the two men still in the room with her could comment on their antics, her phone rang again.  Looking at the caller ID, she sighed and hit the connect: Dorothy.  “Hey Thea,” she greeted with a sigh, moving to sit down.  “Just how deep in are we?” 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam** **, Netherlands** **–** **Devil’s Den – Roughly 8:00am**

            “Boog!” 

            Adelheid eyed the man who had burst into the front door warily, taking in the uniform and face – it was one she knew, but after everything with Gust and more than a few reports of similar incidents coming in…  Adelheid van der Linde had joined the administrative end of the militia, never having been the fighting type; it was a good job and it had good hours, so she still had time to work up the evening meals for the thirty or so people in the Devil’s Get.  Today was her day off, so she was actually in the middle of planning out lunch, especially since most of it would go into the fridge for everyone’s snack food for the next week or so, as fancy took them.  Food crisis or no, they were more than well off in that direction, even insofar as variety; she’d made sure they bought good spices too, and cycled them enough that by the time something got monotonous it could be switched out. 

            She _did_ recognize Olin Webb, however, and he didn’t look threatening, despite obviously being winded.  “You better not have brought trouble here,” she snapped.  Olin wasn’t the type to mean anything bad, but he wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box either.  And Boog was Valio’s last name, and Val was a _fighter_ , one of the ones Kay took with him to rescue Schbeiker. 

            Olin gave her an annoyed look.  “The speech got moved up from half before noon to ten,” the man managed to get out between pants.  “We need more men on duty, especially with what our more stupid brethren in uniform across the city have been doing to try to handle _their_ gang problems, we don’t know how antsy the crowd’s going to be.  I know you don’t like other people in here, but can I at least sit on the couch while someone tells him he needs to get his uniform on and run with me?” 

            Adelheid frowned, then looked around; Anika had been listening, and Adelheid wanted more detail.  “Go tell Val he’s being called in, and he needs to be quick about it,” she told the nineteen-year-old.  Anika made a face but put down the meat she was dicing, gave her hands a quick wash, and went trotting down the hall.  As she was doing that, Adelheid filled a glass with water and went over to Olin.  They weren’t strangers, they knew each other well enough, but they weren’t friends, and she didn’t trust him.  On the other hand, he had obviously run here, and a bit of water didn’t cost anything. 

            “Here,” she offered, handing him the glass, which he accepted gratefully, downing it quickly. 

            Wiping at his mouth with his sleeve, he asked, “I’m not making trouble sitting here, am I?”  He sounded worried, and maybe even remorseful. 

            _Good_.  “Not so long as you stay put,” she replied, taking the glass and going to refill it.  They’d made it clear a long time gone that outsiders were entirely unwelcome in their home; it had been one of their first rules.  Until the person gained the trust of the rest, it didn’t matter if he was your most amazing boyfriend ever; you went to _his_ place to hang out, or if he came here, he didn’t leave the entry areas, and there was more than one person to keep an eye out.  It may have been paranoia, but it meant that everyone knew immediately if there was someone new in their midst that wasn’t supposed to be, there were no mistakes made.  Chaos had been one of the fastest people they had accepted beyond than the young teenagers, and there’d been obvious reasons for that. 

            The Devils had a reputation that, while she wasn’t one of those who enforced it, she was glad to be a part of.  They were close-knit, they didn’t take shit, and they would make sure everyone they loved made it through this world after _Libra_.  They had started picking up and helping a few of the smaller groups forming up nearby with similar ideas even, and hopefully _all_ of them would make it through this winter and more… hopefully this coming summer would live up to its name.  Still, she made sure the message was clear to Olin as she came back and sat by him; this was _her_ home, and by being here, he was treading on thin ice. 

            As he began to drink the second glass, more slowly this time, she started the questions, “What’s wrong?  Why did the speech get moved up?”  _Maybe I’ll go see after all…_  

            He shook his head, wiping at his forehead with his scarf.  “No idea,” he admitted.  “We were just told it was moved up and that we needed more people on scene, both because people might get a little more pissy and a show of us should calm it, and, well…”  He grimaced.  “You get reports from everything in the more northeast end of the city too, right?” 

            Adelheid frowned, then nodded.  Technically, she’d signed a confidentiality agreement, but it was moot if Olin already knew; he was within the scope of those she could talk to it about, roughly.  “They’ve been having gang problems.”  The rest of the city had the kind of gang problems that made those between the Devils and Slingers – _before_ Kay had arrived and forced Cal’s men to take a few steps back – look tame.  And that wasn’t even counting for the fact that it wasn’t one-on-one. There were four sizable groups – Tigers, Shadow, Cadence, and Beale – none too allied with any of the others. 

            Olin grimaced.  “You’ll find out soon enough, and sorry, this being your downtime and all, but someone from Tigers or Shadow killed the leader of Beale’s nephew sometime in the wee hours this morning.”  He took another sip of water.  “They’re out for blood, and they’re not being too particular about whose.  Naturally, they can’t keep it to their own area, and are playing hide-and-seek-and-kill all across the city.” 

            …There was a reason that what was left of the police force had long since washed its hands of them.  Things like _this_ happened, and everyone had at least a few ex-soldiers on hand, which was more training than any civil officer could stand to hold against.  Bribes had become such a big problem – _further_ corrupting the police – purely because of those problems… yet with the city going to hell and no reliable peacekeeping force, the only option for safety _was_ to form up gangs, and the cycle repeated itself.  The Slingers had been so dangerous because most of them were men shamed from their losses in the war who wanted to prove themselves… and it went downhill from there.  The Devil’s Get held in the southwest area of town, and gang relations tended to happen just by geography – it wasn’t like anyone could afford a car, or had reason to. 

            Chaos had solved their problem with the Slingers and made their area entirely peaceful – he was the leading member keeping the new refugee crews in line – but it wasn’t as if they could loan him out to different areas of the city. 

            And it wasn’t like she cared about all them unless it started to relate to her and hers… which it was starting to look like it might.  “They’ve been warned out of the area already,” she found herself arguing.  “The square that the princess is speaking in is unanimous neutral ground so long as she’s in it.”  Relena Peacecraft was rebuilding the world little by little after her brother’s grand blunder.  _Blood obviously isn’t everything._  

            “Yeah, but like I said, they changed the _time_ ,” Olin returned.  “It’s not like they’ll _know_ , running around like they are, and even if they do I’m not sure Beale will give a shit, princess or no.  We’re getting double reinforcements to try and clear out the surrounding area while the media sets up at light speed to get it all perfect, and just the same, what happens if some of these guys are in the crowd just to play innocent, and there’s more blood?”  He squeezed his eyes shut.  “Hell, I forgot to say: Beale’s leader took it back by knifing leader of Cadence’s little brother in the throat, before he realized it couldn’t have been them.” 

            “Christ…”  If that wasn’t a mess, she didn’t know what was.  Cadence was a piece of work on a _good_ day. 

            Olin wasn’t done, though.  “And if that weren’t enough, everyone’s paranoid just from the attack on Brussels, and we have so many new people in town the administration’s scared someone might get the idea to do something as stupid as a protest in the middle of it, so they want _crowd security on the perimeter_.”  His tone showed just how stupid he thought that was.  “Checking passports?  Who’s got a fuckin’ passport in this city?  And as if there’s even enough of us _all_ on duty to get all the way around a crowd like that!”  He shook his head before taking another gulp of water.  “They had this all planned out before, but the gang fighting’s enough to make anyone spooked, not to mention they’re not giving out _any_ reason for the move-up, and people have been planning for this for _months_ you know?” 

            Meeting her eyes solidly, he asked, “You know any way to get the word out fast that it’s been moved?  It could help calm down everyone about that, if they know not to show up too late and miss everything…  Most had been planning to show early just for the crowd if nothin’ else, but…  You know how it is.  People like what they can see better, and it’d give us all less pissed off crowd to work with the further the news gets out.” 

            Val and Anika were hurrying towards them now, Val’s overshirt unbuttoned and him trying to do his belt, Anika carrying his scarf, hat, and daypack, running to the kitchen to fill his canteen with something hot and to get a knapsack for lunch too, from what was left over from earlier.  People got called in off schedule often enough and it was a general rule to make extras – someone else would eat it within a few days if they made too much.  With just shy of thirty people in one house, food was a constant work in progress. 

            Knowing Anika, she’d probably slip him that little sliver of cake that was left in the fridge, since he’d been called out on his day off like this.  It was the little things that made it easier to get through a rough day.  She ought to warn him so he didn’t crush it… well no, Val’s pack had a side pocket to keep his lunch away from the rest and getting mushed, so it should be fine. 

            Adelheid frowned, a thought occurring to her.  “Why are you here, and not Luc or Shov?” she demanded. 

            Olin snorted, annoyed.  “They’ve got seniority on me, and they’re a solid team.  They got put to work already and I was the odd man out.”  Seeing Anika hand Val his pack, Olin stood and looked back to her, eyebrows raised.  “So you’ll help spread it around or what?” 

            She scowled at him.  “Why _wouldn’t_ I, Webb?”  Standing as well, she went to shoo them out.  “Now get out of here.” 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium – Roughly 8:20am**

            Sighing in frustration, Milliardo finally climbed into the car, scowling as his body protested.  Nothing _ever_ got done by the time it was supposed to be, he _knew_ that, and imposing impossible deadlines didn’t _actually_ help.  That was the downside of bureaucracy, and he remembered his mother telling him as much one evening after he’d watched, wide-eyed, as his father had ranted on and on about some bill or other – though not before she had lectured the man soundly for yelling in front of his son, especially when Relena, newly born, was napping in the next room. 

            He was never sure if he had so many memories of his mother instead of his father because the woman had left more of an impression or if King Peacecraft had often been too busy to spend much time with children so young.  It was a common trend with fathers versus mothers, he had learned while at Academy…  But then, he _had_ been only six when the man died and he was transplanted to Italy to one of his father’s more trusted friends, even as two-year-old Relena had been spirited away to Japan with the Darlians. 

            Most people thought he had _made up_ the name Marquise…  The truth was, the Marquises had died before he turned eight, and he had insisted on keeping the name when he went to his first Alliance-assigned foster parents.  He had shown promise in the fighting arts through the school they had wanted him to attend, and he had suddenly seen a means for his dream of bringing his home back into reality again – for revenge someday against the Alliance for what they had done to Sanc.  When he was transferred again less than a year later, he had focused on school and honing his skills more than the family, and had been unsurprised to be transferred again… then later again…  He had had goals by then, and he prioritized. 

            He had gotten what he wanted… though there were times when he wondered about how happy Relena was to live as a Darlian, the way she now insisted her name wasn’t Peacecraft, but Darlian-Peacecraft. 

            The prince sighed, putting his head back and closing his eyes, appreciating the car’s soft interior as he felt the engine start up.  It would be around two hours before they reached Amsterdam.  _Finally._  

            He could sleep, with seats so comfortable as this… 

-

***

-

**L2**

            “You doing anything fun for the holidays, or are you stuck back here with us?”  Dr. McGee asked. 

            Leia smiled at the radiologist who had just run in to slam a chest tube into her non-ventilating patient; apparently the x-rays she ordered had been positive for fluid in the lungs, and he’d decided not to waste time while the rest of them were getting ready to intubate.  The patient’s fate attended to – at least for the time being – the other doctor was evidently dragging his feet about going back to the reading room. 

            She’d been one of the lucky ones to draw her vacation time for right after Christmas day, but she hadn’t honestly decided what to do with it.  The idea of staying home alone was far from appealing, however; Marie had been missing for five months now, and the more time that went on, the more hope she lost. 

            She was nearly ready to throw all her doubts and common sense to the wind and contact Jake… but with the way things were now, she wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t put her under Regime custody ‘for her protection’.  She doubted it – it wasn’t his flair – but she hadn’t seen him since he turned fourteen; six years was a long time.  _And if he **hasn’t** changed, then he’s already been doing his best to find her…_  

            She didn’t need yet another let-down. 

            And before…  Jake’s visits had always meant word from Treize.  He’d always carried favors for her or the occasional untraceable cell phone, stories and toys for the baby.  However much she had missed Jake, with his sharp wit and forthright affection…  _Would he still smile, with no secrets to spin out for me?_  Maybe, maybe not.   _He would if I had Marie, but…_  

            Once upon a time, he had been one of Treize’s closest friends.  Jake was the only one of Treize’s friends that she’d known before Marie came along: the half-feral, bratty little brother who wanted to meet her and was willing to keep an eye out for unwanted company while she and Treize shared a tryst.  The two of them had always talked about David so much she felt like she ought to know him too, but there had never been time… and then it would have been dangerous for him to fall under her father’s scrutiny.  Noin had come later; she had escorted Treize the same as Jake used to when Leia was able to finally introduce her lover to their daughter on L3-X18999 – for that first year after seeing him again it had been Noin who played messenger, and at first she hadn’t understood why. 

            _At least, not until she got a safe phone._   A phone that Noin had unfortunately had to take with her when she left that afternoon, but still one that her father wouldn’t be able to backtrace, despite all his connections. 

 

-

_“What’s happened to him?” she demanded as soon as pleasantries were out of the way, Lucrezia playing dolls with Mariemaia in the next room.  It had been weeks now of hand-carried letters and thumb drives, and Treize hadn’t said a **word** about the boy who rarely left his shadow, who had always kept their secrets – she feared the worst.  _

_**“What do you mean?”**_

_“You know who I mean,” she argued, trying not to shake. **Dodging the subject…**   That wasn’t a good sign.  “Where is he?  What happened to him?”  **Was it my father?**   Dekim had always been ambitious, but since her pregnancy and her mother’s death… he grew more violent by the year.  Once, she’d disapproved of his methods, but had agreed they were valid.  Now, though…  He grew frightening practically by the month.  _

_He let out a deep, exhausted sigh. **“He’s… lost.  It’s fine, David’s watching him, but…  Leia, I don’t know if I’ll get him back from this.”**   His tone was bleak.  **“He’s snapped – how do you save someone when the danger is** himself **?”**   _

_Leia let out a breath of relief.  “Anything but death can be undone,” she told him.  “What happened?”_

_**“I think his family is dead.”**_

-

 

            Family dead, and Jake gone for evidence, or vengeance, or hope… the body of a father she hadn’t known about confirmed and a boy gone without a trace.  David was the most help he’d tolerate, and even then Treize talked like Dave had had to hold on by the edges of his fingernails; and the longer it went on, the more ugly truths piled up about her father… and yet _nothing_. 

            At the same time, Amarianna had taken ill with what first looked like a simple flu but took her life in _days_ , leaving them all reeling.  Treize had been waiting for his tour in space to end before telling her she was a grandmother, and then she was _gone_ , and half their dreams with her – all without knowing.  Noin had had to return with him, and Leia had agreed –he’d _needed_ someone, and because of Dekim it couldn’t be her, however much she wished it – and so she’d been alone again.  Alone, yet so busy she could hardly take time to sleep with the sheer _onslaught_ of organizing everything RLTT dropped in her lap…  

            The last part of 188 had been wonderful, and yet so very hard.  It hadn’t been until the following June that she began to feel like she could truly breathe again, too tired from all the suspense to be vulnerable to it anymore… and then Jake had shown up on her doorstep, the light gone out of his eyes, but with a satchel fit to burst with letters from Treize.  The first line of the first message had been reverberated through her head like a gong:

            _‘Anchor him, before he finds a convenient cause to die for.  I need him.’_  

            In answer, she had all but thrown her child at him, collapsing into the meltdown she’d been staving off for _months_.  It hadn’t been difficult to play up the role of an overworked single mother, and beg him to stay, just for a while – the tears had come easily.  Pressing in on his guilt for favors with Marie hadn’t even been an act – she _had_ been exhausted and frustrated and _furious_ with him, just maybe not for the reasons she’d claimed.  Using babies to tie men down was a time-honored tradition for a reason, after all, despite how had she’d had to twist the paradigm to make it apply. 

            It had _worked_ , though.  Jake had taken to Marie so utterly, and even after he’d left again he kept coming back, right up until she told him her father’s requirements for going back to school.  He and her lover had always struck her as being closer to brothers, or at least cousins than friends, and by dropping what ought to have been Treize’s responsibilities in his lap, she had forged a new connection for him to keep him grounded… 

            _…and then took it away again three years later._   It was only supposed to be temporary, of course, but… well…  _Life has a way of happening whether you like it or not, in every way you can forget to think of._  

_Like your twisted monster of a father siccing his attack dog on the man you love._

            So while sometimes she pulled up the old panic drop email she had for Jake and though about calling for him, she held back.  He would come, if she asked… but she’d hurt him, too, and there wasn’t any point, anymore.  _I’m not in danger…_   And while he had always held some fondness for her, as the woman Treize adored, his _love_ had always been reserved for Treize and Mariemaia.  With Treize gone and Marie in the wind… 

            _He would come, but he would resent me for it._   As much as seeing him would be a relief, it would only open up old wounds – it would make the pain unbearable again, for both of them. 

            _If he has her and is keeping her from me, I might even deserve it._   As much as she loved her daughter, she could admit that she had never been a very good mother.  A large part of that was because her own family had hardly given her the chance, but that didn’t change the results. 

            So she turned her sorrows to the back of her mind for the moment, and focused on the coworker in front of her trying to make conversation – he didn’t deserve her angst.  “I’m free after Christmas morning,” she admitted.  “But I haven’t been able to make up my mind for what to do.” 

            Her friend grimaced a little.  “Still no trace of her?” 

            David McGee was one of the people who knew her daughter had been out of her custody until recently and that Marie had then vanished, though he didn’t know they were really the missing members of the Barton family.  When she finally found Marie they would need that anonymity to stay hidden and safe. 

            She refused to consider the idea that she might never find her. 

            Leia let out a sigh and crushed down the despair rising in her gut.  “None, I’m afraid.” 

            _…Aaaaand it’s not  passing._   Of course, she had never believed it would take so long to find her that she would be looking at _Christmas_ without contact.  She looked up at the ceiling and found herself staring at the colored lights someone had strung about the halls…  David wouldn’t think badly of her for crying, he had two children of his own that he had already admitted he couldn’t imagine losing, but that didn’t mean she _wanted_ to cry standing in the hall outside the ED. 

            “Leyda…”  The other physician obviously wanted to be comforting but either wasn’t sure how or believed that she wouldn’t allow it.  After a moment with her still staring up and trying to hold back tears, he sighed.  “I’m sorry to bring it up.”  He paused again before ploughing on.  “I don’t know if it would help, but I wanted to ask if you’d like to tag along with my family for the holiday.  I…  No one should have to be alone, and you’re more than welcome – I already talked about it with Sara.  The only connecting rooms the hotel we went with landed us with one more bed than we needed, so you’d only have to worry about your flight over…  Getting out of town might help, I thought.” 

            _That’s… probably worth a thought._   “Visiting family?” she asked carefully, looking back down to the floor.  She almost had her composure back… 

            “Mm, yes and no.  We’re meeting up with my brother and his family, but it’s a vacation for all of us; we’re going to that colony in L5 that brought in the big tree.  None of the kids have ever seen a live Christmas tree before, let alone one that big, and it should be enough hustle and bustle for them to all think it’s a great adventure.” 

            She’d heard about that big affair in L5 a few weeks ago, actually.  She’d already been contemplating losing herself in a crowd of strangers, but at the same time that seemed even more desolate, when in the end she would still have to go home to sleep.  _But getting out of town…_   That had a certain degree of appeal.  That, and she would have _some_ structure to fall back into if she wanted with the McGee family, with it still being different enough from the holidays she had spent for the past six years that it wouldn’t hurt _too_ badly… 

            It certainly sounded better than hiding alone in her condo, brooding over Marie and grieving on the anniversary of Treize’s death.  She had decided she shouldn’t let herself get so far downhill again after last year. 

            “What days were you planning on being there?” 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands – 9:15am**

            _“‘Say I’m not afraid, Not anymore, I used to be calm, Now the temperature’s changed, It just ain’t the same…’”_  

            Kasey shook his head.  One of these days, he’d figure out how Melissa could stand to just belt out singing with the radio…  Not that her voice wasn’t nice, but she had to be the first person he’d ever known to _do_ that – it didn’t count when people sang under their breath. 

            Bemused but more than accepting, he turned back to the computer he was carefully dismantling, grimacing at a piece of partially charred circuitry.  _No wonder the thing’s refusing to turn on, if any of the rest of it looks like **that**._  

            Up in the loft area – he’d needed some floor space that had no risk of oil or grease getting into whatever he set down – he didn’t think much of it when the radio was turned way down.  Melissa was downstairs with the garage door wide open, cleaning, and it probably just meant they had a customer.  It was a little early, sure, but nobody’s schedules really made sense today.  When he heard her start coming up the stairs he called out, “I’ll probably be at this for another two or three hours before I’m up for a different job, ‘Liss.” 

            Instead of answering him she came the rest of the way up and poked her head around the doorway.  “Know any reason Relena might move up the time on her speech with next to no notice?” 

            He frowned.  He’d never really known Relena, honestly… but she had always had reasons for what she did, especially as shit got more serious.  And after all the publicity experience she’d gotten through touring the past few months, she knew what kind of waves changing her schedule like that would make – she wouldn’t do it for something stupid. 

            It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, even though he couldn’t say _why_.  He couldn’t have cared less about the princess’ speech two minutes ago, but now he had the same kind of alarm going off in his head that he had long learned meant ‘move before you get shot’.  Some part of him had put two and two together and hadn’t bothered to tell his brain, and he knew to trust his instincts… 

            _I’m already far enough away that it shouldn’t matter if it turns dangerous._   But… logic wasn’t making that dread go away, even if he was right and he really was a step ahead of his subconscious for once. 

            And it couldn’t hurt.  “Let’s close shop and turn the radio on up here,” he decided, meeting Melissa’s eyes.  “It’s probably all fine, but…” 

            “But something feels wrong,” his girlfriend finished for him.  “That was what I was thinking.” 

            He smirked a bit and shrugged.  “We’re superstitious, now, aren’t we?”  He still felt like he was overreacting, but…  He’d survived courtesy of nothing but those gut feelings, more than a few times. 

            Melissa grimaced a little herself even as she smiled; apparently she felt a little foolish about it too, but she’d learned the same lessons as he had.  “At least we’re superstitious together?” 

            “Great, we can start a cult now,” he retorted.  “Go ahead and lock up, and I’ll get this to a stopping point before the broadcast starts up.” 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam** **, Netherlands** **– Dam Square – 10:10am**

            “…Luc?” 

            “Yeah, I see it.” 

            The mood of the crowd had been altogether annoyed to start with, but now…  He could feel the little hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention.  This group of people was starting to be less _people_ and more a single _creature_ … and they had enough things going wrong today without adding in the stupid shit people could get up to if the group mentality got strong enough. 

            Get enough people together, and they start feeling invincible.  It had been a good thing for the past two years, had gotten everyone to stick together and pull through the hard times, but this…  _Just because the dog is showing its soft underbelly **now** doesn’t mean it’s lost its teeth._  

            The princess was talking now, explaining what she was doing to help the Netherlands make it through the winter, talking about how well their country had risen to the challenge of the last two years and persevered…  And it was nice to hear; the crowd agreed with him, if the happy murmurings and excitement in the air meant anything. 

            But if there was one thing he’d learned since _Libra_ ’s fall, it was that any strong emotion was really just _energy_ , and that it could switch and turn from something good to something bad damned fast. 

            His stomach twisted.  _If the princess gets this reaction every time I never want to be at another of her speeches again._  

-

***

-

**Amsterdam** **, Netherlands –** **City Limits – 10:15am**

            “Mr. Peacecraft?  Mr. Peacecraft, wake up, you should hear this.” 

            Milliardo started awake, sitting up straight with a jerk that made him flinch in pain as he forced his eyes to focus.  “What is it?” 

            “Miss Peacecraft moved up her timetable, sir.  They’re airing it on one of the local radio stations – we only just tuned in and realized.” 

            Chills ran through his body, wracking his chest, and he grit his teeth hard to keep his face blank.  He hadn’t gotten there in time, with the two hour drive, he realized too late that Dorothy had likely called once he had left her in Relena’s suite.  “Turn it up,” he told the men in the front seat.  It wasn’t as though he could do anything about it with over twenty minutes of driving left; alerting the locals would could only cause a mess of rumor-mongering. 

            Still, he could feel bile rising up to his mouth as he gripped his seat hard, leaning forward.  He could only hope that his fears were unfounded. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam** **, Netherlands** **– Dam Square**

            Jake stood a yard behind and slightly to the left of Relena with his hands folded in front of him, his feet shoulder-width apart, eyes roving the crowd.  He had Cassidy just out of the crowd and cameras’ line of sight on her right and the rest of his daytime crew strategically scattered around the stage, the only two men Mitchell hadn’t already claimed from the old night crew in civilian dress a little ways out into the crowd on surveillance patrols.  Normally he wouldn’t risk the night guard’s vigilance by keeping them awake so long, but after getting that call from Dorothy, he had no delusions about sleeping anywhere but under Zechs’ strict guard that night. 

            The question was simply how public it would be, and whether Zechs wanted to make an even bigger fuss by trying to cancel the rest of the tour again.  Without good reasons, it would look like the princess was getting slapped on the wrist for wanting to do her job.  And that would look just _great_ for the prince.  ‘Political suicide’ might even be an apt term.  _Unless, of course, he manages to pull up a legitimate looking response that makes Relena look foolish…_   In which case the press could easily still sway in Relena’s favor; but, if it didn’t work, they might be put under house arrest for another week. 

            _Not ideal, but terrible either._   It would put a dampener on Relena’s campaign, but it would also give him time to finish rebuilding his team, what with David planning to take nearly half of them for his new Strike Force.  He didn’t begrudge the fact that his friend wanted both the majority of the night shift as well as Cassidy – he agreed with the choices entirely.  But good help was hard to come by – or at least hard to vet properly – especially seeing as he hadn’t gone looking for potential in the troops at all recently.  Dave wasn’t the only one with a megaload of homework to get through Dave’s deadline in February. 

            Today, Dave and his groupies were technically still on his roster, but getting them all out the door at four a.m. would have been impossible.  Once the speech was started, though, the cat was out of the bag, and depending on how the royal siblings’ power play panned out, either night shift would play catch-up this afternoon or everyone would be back under lockdown before he had to think about- 

            A flash of metal reflecting the late morning’s sun caught his attention completely. _It’s too much to hope that was just someone’s lighter, isn’t it?_  

            “Alert and white,” he muttered sharply into his hidden radio, scanning the area he’d seen the glint come from without letting his body language change.  If Zechs had been right and they _were_ dealing with the possibility of a shooter, then he’d misjudged enough already without giving the man a head’s up.  _Shit._   He’d kept an ear to the ground well enough to know that no group wanted Relena dead, but that never accounted for the random amateur.  “Cassidy on dive.”  _Chances are, it was only an armed citizen._   Nearly everyone was these days, and for good reas- 

            The crowd reeled and surged, and a woman shrieked – someone else had noticed there was a shark in the reef.  _Fuck._   Panic was _not_ good friends with establishments filled past capacity… and if anyone got the brilliant idea that the threat might be aimed at the princess that people were here to adore, that could put an angry spin on the rising hysteria. 

            _This needs to stop **now** , or ‘carnage’ might be on the front of the papers tomorrow.  _

            Lena was trying… but they weren’t focused on her anymore.  Everyone was trying to see or get to or away from the disturbance, though a few smart ones near the edges of the mass were ducking away even as others pushed in closer, wanting to see what was going on.  It was getting louder by the second, and he could _feel_ the energy thrumming through him, as if he was just as locked in that jungle of chaos, waiting for his fate to be decided.  It made the air thick enough to choke on even as he felt his body disconnect from his mind enough that he could _move_ with no hesitation, could screen out his fear… 

            Chaos was _dangerous_.  Having lost the central anchors to keep something like this organized, it could spiral into something he _couldn’t_ face and survive.  Only the suicidal believed in the kind of odds that made heroes.  The price of fighting for what you believed in was the realization that throwing in everything you had all at once might not be good enough.  The price of life was knowing your own limits and how to circumvent your weaknesses, and this- 

            One of the carts selling food tipped and crashed, and everyone near it rushed; whoever had done it, no one was going to lose an opportunity like that. 

            A pair in militia khaki tried to shove back and were swallowed. 

            Jake reached forward and tugged firmly on Relena’s coat, forcing her to take an involuntary step back even as she turned to him.  Her jaw was set, but her eyes were lit with the same fear he had seen two weeks ago; her body language was hesitant even as she moved for him. 

            Of course she didn’t want to give up, but she wasn’t naïve.  She was smart enough to realize they needed to leave while there was still an escape route available to them – to know that right now her audience had lost enough reason that- 

            Cassidy slammed into them both from the side, and he reflexively wrapped an arm around Lena to lessen the impact.  She screamed in his ear from the pain, but he could hardly hear it through the ringing.  A swift glance showed the point of impact had been wild – the shot probably wouldn’t have hit, but it had still been close enough to fuck up his hearing, which was close enough to make a clear point. 

            _Zechs is going to kill me._  

            “Move out!” he snapped, feeling his voice in his throat more than he could hear the whisper of it.  _Shit, who else is gone deaf?_   He tucked one arm tighter around Relena even as she hissed and moved so it was under her sling, and rose into a crouch to drag her behind the speakers, muscles straining as he used his other hand to sign to his boys that they were running.  At least Relena helped, half crab-walking to get them out of line of sight faster; he was more fast than he was strong, and the angle was hell.  “Abort,” he ordered in what he figured was at least close to a normal volume.  “If you’re pinned just worry about getting yourself out, but if able, accompany, rendezvous two streets south in three minutes.  If you miss the deadline, we will be enroute to Canaan.”  He always had a sanctuary destination planned for emergencies and this certainly qualified. 

            The line keeping the crowd from the stage area was still holding for the moment and the stairs leading up to the stage were in plain view from the crowd, so he dropped off the side and reached back up to help the princess down.  She immediately moved with him. 

            It was another of those oddly smooth moments where they flowed together as if he had been working with her as long he had with David; where she practically did what he wanted before he could think to ask, trusted him so implicitly with her person that she never thought to hesitate even that brief moment the way anyone over the age of five couldn’t help.  It was decidedly odd, but he couldn’t deny that the symmetry was incredibly gratifying, for all its lack of reas- 

            And just because he wasn’t panicking did _not_ mean that he could stay that detached from the damn _riot_ brewing. 

            Not that he’d stopped moving; Relena had only taken two steps, walking as briskly as she could and not look like she was about to lose it – they were probably still being filmed by someone – and he was directly behind and to the side, cataloguing threats even as his thoughts wandered, muscles coiled and ready to react _without_ even a moment’s notice. 

            It was amazing what you could learn to do without the slightest supervision. 

            Lincoln hailed them from some yards ahead; he was staying put, ready to cut a path… just because the mob wasn’t in here yet didn’t mean everyone backstage hadn’t already begun milling in hysteria, making anything faster than Relena’s brisk walk impossible.  He caught a glimpse of one of his hand gestures raised above the crowd far to the left, not far from where he had stationed Jerome.  He glanced back; if it was at least the four of them then they should- 

            Cassidy jumped down after them just as the line broke and they were pulled into the tide. 

-

***

-

**Milan, Italy**

            Hilde stared up at the public screen with the same mute horror as everyone else in the square, disbelieving.  _This is just a dream.  It’s just another damn nightmare…_   But at the same time she wasn’t waking up, and she knew better than to think a _nightmare_ would have her in such a detached area, watching a screen over five hundred miles away. 

            Western Europe, the coast countries at _least_ , were supposed to be safer than this.  Even with all the subterfuge and skirmishing she took part in, trying to rattle the current government seat, things like _this_ …  She’d seen the hunger in nearly every town, the poverty, but this kind of chaos… 

            _Duo…_   Why was it happening in _Amsterdam_?  It would be easier to put aside as another consequence of Zechs Marquis’ actions if it wasn’t _Amsterdam_.  She could only hope that her friend wasn’t anywhere near that… that _maelstrom_ of people.  That Relena would get away safe, that Duo was still working nights and home asleep in his pit of Devils, strong enough to withstand any siege. 

            She felt so utterly _helpless_ that for another moment she dared to hope it really was a nightmare after all… before giving up entirely and forcing herself to turn away and heading out to the meet with one of Sally’s contacts. 

            _Get a grip.  Duo can handle himself – do what you can to make sure it can’t happen again…_  

-

***

-

**Amsterdam** **, Netherlands** **– Dam Square – 10:20am**

            Relena bit back a scream as she was suddenly shoved forward, flinching away from the rising ground even as Jake caught her around the middle and slid in front of her, bracing his whole body into her good shoulder and wrapping his arms around her as the onslaught _kept coming_ and she gasped in pain.  Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to focus instead on the clean sweet scent of Jake’s cologne, the way he held her now…  She was _safe_ , despite the rising madness all around them, despite the shrieking throbbing in her arm that defined her existence.  She couldn’t _think_ …  So she stood clinging to her friend until it passed enough that she could again. 

            _Oh God._   “Someone tried to kill me,” she whispered, her good hand tightening on his shirt as the implications hit home.  “Oh God…”  Somehow the idea that someone would try to shoot her from a distance was far more terrifying than any of the times she had been held at gunpoint.  _Then again, after the first few times I stopped believing he might actually pull the trigger._   Not that Heero was the only one who had tried to control her that way, but…  Well, after Heero, no one else ever seemed half as intimidating. 

            _Until now, at least._   She couldn’t help but giggle a little at that, and it came out sounding utterly hysterical – she buried her face in Jake’s shoulder to muffle the noise. 

            “Hey, hey,” the man muttered soothingly.  “I will get you out of here.  As soon as you’re okay to move again we’re going.  Just tell me when, and we’ll go someplace safe.  Just try to keep it together for me and we’ll get back to our house arrest, huh Princess?”  That last was said with a slight laugh that seemed like it was a little too close to hysterical too, but he was trying. 

            She shut her eyes for a moment took a deep breath, trying to push back the pain; it wasn’t all encompassing anymore, at least.  Looking over Jake’s shoulder, she could see Lincoln fighting the crowd hard to try to keep from being moved further away.  _But who was it that pushed us out of the line of fire?_   Cassidy.  “Where’s Cassidy?” she asked, trying to look over her shoulder and gasping when doing that jostled her arm. 

            “He’s coming,” Jake assured her, though his face was tight.  “He fell…  He’s back up, he’ll be along in a moment.”  Leaning back to look her in the eyes, he asked, “Ready?” 

            Someone bumped into her hard from behind, but she managed to only grimace this time instead of crying out.  She nodded despite not feeling like she could _ever_ be ready, and they shifted so they could start to move.  Fighting the crowd’s push and pull without falling or breaking down sobbing – from either the shock or the pain, she wasn’t sure which – took all her attention, thankfully… otherwise she probably _would_ break down. 

            There was something wrong with that logic, but that really didn’t matter at the moment…  She was pretty sure someone had stolen her wallet – she couldn’t feel it in her pocket anymore. 

            Jake was a lifeline, pulling her along to safety even as she felt worlds away, and she reflexively tightened her grip on his forearm when a shadow passed over them, first not wanting to guess what it was, then calling herself silly because it must have only been clouds… until she heard metal shriek.  Her bodyguard glanced behind them quickly, half-stepping back to the side so he was in front of her again before his head even finished turning. 

            His eyes were flat, cold.  There was no warning as lashed out, throwing himself forward to _toss_ her hard into the mercies of the crowd. 

            Before she could even cry out, time even for her heart to begin dropping into the pit of her stomach, _something_ crashed down from the sky and he was _gone_. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam** **, Netherlands** **– Devil’s Den – 10:25am**

            Melissa fought to catch her breath as Kay pounded on the door to the Den; it was locked tight, and no wonder, with a riot erupting only five blocks away.  Kay had only stopped to barricade the doors and help her throw what was most valuable in their bags before they had gone out the garage and locked it down, sprinting for home. 

            She hadn’t dared to ask if he’d lived through riots before; she wasn’t sure she really wanted to hear the answer.  Her mind was still spinning with the impossibility of it – a riot here, and at _Relena Peacecraft’s_ speech?  A _riot_ … it was a joke, right?  A misunderstanding?  It was about to calm back down, they were just being overcautious, if they’d kept listening to the radio they’d have seen it was alright… 

            But she could hear the shouts from here.  And they had heard more than one gun go off even closer, while they had run.  Someone was panicking, or ready to take advantage, robbing or killing when there wasn’t any chance they could get caught. 

            She wanted to cry with relief when the door finally opened.  The sky might as well have been falling; it hadn’t been half so terrifying when _Libra_ fell.  It had been so far away then, even if it had changed everything after.  This?  _God, who’s still out there?  At least it’s Monday – Nolan’s in school._  

            Kay was already ahead of her, telling Isaac, who looked more than a little shaken up himself, to get down the names of everyone there, then write up a different list for everyone who was out, reminding him that the school would have everyone who went barricaded inside soon, if they didn’t already.  Melissa licked her lips.  _Right._   There were the high school kids too.  They wouldn’t have to worry about Theresia, Laura, Tiede, Markos, Ruben, or Christiaan, then…  And Amos was in the same class as Nolan.  As Chaos told Robby to make sure no one was forgotten, she tried to tally up who she knew was working.  _Rina’s out, but Bryce would have locked down as soon as it started to go sour.  Adelheid and Marien were in the kitchen earlier…  Jamus, Gust, and Adriaan all work nights, so they’ll be downstairs, Mik…  Leah was going to the speech, and Katrien too!_   She closed her eyes as her stomach twisted.  _Mik…_   Why couldn’t she remember where Mikal was?  Or if Harold was working or not?  She _thought_ he was, but she couldn’t remember…  _Or Daan…_  

            She couldn’t even remember who all had said they were going to the speech, because she hadn’t cared for going herself.  She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, trying to keep back the tears.  Why couldn’t she _remember_?  She was supposed to pay attention and know so everyone was always safe, Luc _counted_ on her, and-

            _Oh no._   Luc and Shov were out there.  Who else was on shift for militia peacekeepers? 

            “‘Liss?” 

            Her eyes snapped back open when Kay focused on her.  He looked concerned, but still determined too.  “Yes?” 

            He pursed his lips a little, reached out to cup her cheek with one hand.  “If everyone hasn’t all come back or’s probably been barricaded in somewhere in another forty minutes, we need to go looking.” 

            She understood immediately, and, feeling at least a little better for having a role in mind, turned her head to kiss his palm.  “I’ll be ready.” 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam** **, Netherlands** **– Dam Square**

            “ _Jake_!” 

            The scream made her throat feel raw. 

            He didn’t move. 

            About to drop to her knees – _So much blood!_ – she screamed again as someone grabbed her around the waist, trying to kick behind her. 

            “Lena!” Cassidy protested, voice strained.  “Jesus, it’s me!”  His voice trailed off as he looked over her shoulder, saw his commander.  “ _Christ_!” 

            It was one of the enormous overhead lights that had been set up for the outdoor stage – she could see another beginning to teeter dangerously on the far side.  The very head of the light had crashed into his upper body and hid his head for more than a foot in any direction…  But a puddle of blood was steadily spreading out from underneath the toppled fixture. 

            “Can you lift it?” she asked Cassidy desperately, lifting her head to look pleadingly into his face.  Jake wasn’t _moving_ - 

            “Not one-handed,” her bodyguard gritted out, and she looked down at the arm he had barely touching her waist instead of wrapped securely and gasped.  His hand had been crushed.  She let out a little sob.  _Crushed like Jake’s head might be, under there._   Another sob escaped before she could clamp it down.  _Oh God, no…  No, we have to get him out._  

            “We have two hands between us?” she whispered hopefully, even as she doubted.  The light was immense…  But she could feel Cassidy nonetheless nod behind her without a moment’s hesitation and start to move to her side instead.  The crowd wasn’t pressing in so tightly around them now, eager to avoid an obstacle if they could see it in time… she saw someone trip over the pole down the length of it and go down. 

            She didn’t let herself watch long enough to see if they managed to rise again before being trampled. 

            Between the two of them, they could barely shift the head of the light; Cassidy wouldn’t have been able to move it even at full strength.  She let out a wail and tried again anyway.  _No!  No, not Jake…_   She thought she could bear the thought of _anyone_ but Jake being-  _No!_   “Please no,” she found herself crying, sobbing, standing stooped over and pulling uselessly at a damn _light fixture_ that was in all certainty killing her friend, the only true friend she thought she might have ever had. 

            It was her father all over again.  He was under there _dying_ , and no one cared.  Everyone was only out for themselves, and she couldn’t stand to have it happen all over again.  Life _couldn’t_ be so cruel again, she _wouldn’t_ let this happen again, she wasn’t _strong enough_ to survive this all over again- 

            She screamed, pulling at the weight with all her might.  Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she _prayed_ , pulling still with everything she had.  “Please!” she cried out, wrenching uselessly at the light, not caring if it made her bad arm twitch and seize from the strain.  “Please, _anything_!”  Sobs wracked at her body.  She knew it was hopeless; God had never cared any of the other times she had cried.  “Help me!” she demanded in a scream.  “Please!”  Her words were choked with tears, she could hardly even understand herself… she cried even harder, opening her eyes to stare into the bleak grey sky.  “Please…  Just _once_ , just fucking _help_ me!” she screeched at it. 

            The light shifted under her hand. 

            Eyes widening in shock, she looked back down… to find six, no, seven, _eight_ people crouched around the square lamp, all readying to lift at the same time, Cassidy crouched with his arms wrapped around Jake’s waist, ready to pull hard as soon as the weight was taken off him.  Feeling as though time was slowing, she stepped back so as not to get in their way… 

            …And he was out. 

            _He’s so **small**. _  Limp as a rag doll, cradled in Lieutenant Foreman’s arms, blood covering his face… she always forgot that he was hardly any bigger than her, with his confidence – the way he moved.  He looked so fragile… but he was breathing.  He’d be able to pull through – they just needed to get him somewhere safe, get him a doctor- 

            Her mind cleared almost instantaneously.  Looking over those who had helped, she asked, “Can you stay with us?”  She had no idea where the rest of her detail was, and even if she did, they might not be able to reach each other.  Right now they were practically in a bubble in the crowd because of the light, but that couldn’t last much longer, and Cassidy couldn’t carry Jake for too long with his hand, no matter how much bigger he was. 

            Three immediately disappeared.  Two more offered her a look of regret before becoming part of the crowd again. 

            She glanced back as movement caught her eye and spotted Lincoln, looking out of breath, and made up her mind.  “Lieutenant Sobrie, please take Jake before Foreman drops him.”

-

***

-

**Amsterdam** **, Netherlands** **– Dam Square – 10:30am**

            Lincoln pushed harder, gaining little ground for all the effort he was putting in; it was practically like every step he gained, he was pushed two back. 

            He had originally planned to stay put or at least not drift far until Jake and Relena reached him, but then the stage light had come crashing down and he’d lost sight of them.  He refused to acknowledge his stomach’s clenching.  He was almost to where it had fallen now, and- 

            Cassidy was trying to shift the weight of a body in his arms with a mangled hand, blood everywhere… and the body was _Miller_.  He didn’t even look like he was _breathing_.  Blood all over the ground, like it was pooling from under the light – _and where is **Relena**_ – and- 

            “Lieutenant Sobrie, please take Jake before Foreman drops him.” 

            He didn’t think to question where the command had come from before taking his unconscious colonel from Cassidy – the other man _did_ look like he was about to lose his grip – settling him as well as he could, rather grateful that Jake was an altogether small guy.  It was only as he finished settling him that he looked back over… and went still. 

            Relena was talking quickly with three people standing nearby, her light grey pantsuit drenched in blood from the knee down and splotched here and there on the jacket, hips, and even the white shirt underneath from where her bloody hand had brushed against it; her sling looked as though it was from a fresh injury.  It was only a moment before she turned back to him and… 

            Everything about her, sling or no, even with tear tracks streaming down her cheeks, screamed _command_.  Her normally soft blue eyes were hard, her posture rigid, and disheveled as she was, hair sweaty and sticking to her neck and cheeks, somehow she looked every inch the royalty she was, willing to be denied _nothing_. 

            “Cassidy, please attempt to inform the rest of the guard that we will be late to the rendezvous; in any case, you will be leading.”  She gestured at the three civilians, two men and a woman.  “These fine citizens will be joining us; Lincoln, please allow Tanner to carry Jake from here, you’re more important as a defense.”  She wiped absently at one cheek, seeming not to realize that she only spread more of Jake’s blood on her face and in her hair.  “Let’s go; the sooner we get to safety the better chance he has.” 

            As he moved to follow her orders, carefully handing over Jake to the man that gestured for him, Lincoln couldn’t help but think that he had finally met the Relena that walked directly into the middle of battlefields without fear.  That _this_ was really the princess that Milliardo Peacecraft seemed to be afraid of stealing his power out from under him… and it fit her like a glove. 

            It was too bad Jake couldn’t see it. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam** **, Netherlands** **– Haarlemmerweg Middle School – 10:35am**

            “This is kinda weird…” 

            “What do you think’s going on?” 

            “It’s probably just another drill, or some dumbass called in a-”

            “ _Oh my God!_ ” 

            “Let me see!” 

            Nolan shifted his backpack on one shoulder, stopping himself from going over and crowding the girl who had an old PlayPak out; a few of the girls in his class were already doing that anyway, and he could ask them in a few minutes. 

            He didn’t like crowds.  He really never had, but after his dad had left the city… well, crowds could be trouble just as easy as a place to hide. 

            “This is making me want to ditch and go home,” Amos muttered as he came over to lean against the wall with him.  “Something’s weird.” 

            Nolan nodded a little, biting one lip.  Something _did_ feel weird about all this…  The whole school had been called out of class into the Multi-Purpose Room then practically ignored, which had never happened before, and the fact that Elayna thought it was okay to pull out her PlayPak in the first place when she _knew_ the staff would take it away if they saw showed that everyone else thought this was weird too.  Bordering on scary. 

            He couldn’t help but smile a little at that.  Two years ago it would have been _terrifying_.  Before Dad had left, before ‘Liss had dropped out and…  Before she had had him live at the church for a few weeks and he had to share a bed with Amos, before Luc had come and rescued them from it all and started up the Devils… 

            It was weird to think he’d only been twelve, then. 

            “I take it back, I’ll stay right here,” Amos muttered, and Nolan snapped out of his thoughts to blink and the other boy before focusing on the rest of the room… and the panic and shouting… and what they were _saying_. 

            His stomach clenched.  “A _riot_?” he whispered, disbelieving. 

            Amos dropped his book bag to the floor and moved to sit cross-legged against the wall.  “I don’t care if it’s real or not, I’m not going out there until Chaos or someone comes to get us.”  He shook his head.  “Not worth it if there’s even a _chance_ they’re right…  And I promised Kay and the Father I wouldn’t go looking for trouble if I could ever help it.” 

            Nolan licked his lips and nodded, seeing the sense in it – wasn’t like he and Amos even knew how to fight, really – and followed the orphan’s example, sitting with his back to the wall, away from everyone else.  He only watched everyone for another minute or two before pulling out his math book, though, and started his homework.  He needed something to focus on anyway.

-

***

-

**Amsterdam** **, Netherlands** **– Unknown – 10:40am**

            Everything… echoed. 

            _What’s happening?  …What happened?_  

            It was like there was a fog over everything, hiding and muffling… making it slow… 

            _…Where am I?_   There was something important…  Something important that he knew he was forgetting…  Shivering, he wrapped his arms around himself and looked around, dimly realizing he in uniform… and saw.  _Shov._  

            _I have to help Shov._  

            Bending over, he pulled his old friend up onto his shoulders and took a few unsteady steps toward…  He had no idea where they were. 

            _Am I dreaming?_   It felt like a dream…  But he didn’t think it was one.  Everything was fuzzy, but… it felt too real even as it was like he was in somebody else’s body. 

            There’d been… an alley.  Maybe this one, but with people, and noise, and…  And nothing.  He didn’t remember a fight, but Shov was hurt, and he knew shaking him wasn’t going to make him wake up…  But he couldn’t think of _why_ he knew. 

            He just… he needed to get Shov to the hospital. 

            Whichever way the hospital was. 

            He started walking again. 

**-**

*******

**-**

**Amsterdam** **, Netherlands** **– Safe house motel**

            Relena closed her eyes as soon as she shut the door to her private room, slowly letting out a deep breath.  The danger was over with… and somehow that made it even harder to keep herself together. 

            Rome had managed to get to the little motel before the rest of them, the crowd having pushed him that way to start with, and he had called in high priority emergency codes for an ambulance pick-up even before that, so it had been waiting to take Jake and Cassidy away when they arrived.  There was no sign of the rest of her entourage yet, but she had made Cassidy promise to call her as soon as there was any news on Jake’s condition.  Lincoln, Jerome, and the three civilians who had stayed with them were in the next room, but there wasn’t anything to indicate that she was even there for all that Jake had designated it as a safe house for her…  _He probably counted it as one purely **for** the anonymity, instead of extra precautionary measures._  

            She’d told Cassidy that he had her permission to use her name for clout and full reign to be pushy to make sure their colonel wasn’t left in a corner and forgotten.  The lieutenant had tried to refuse to leave when he had realized only Lincoln and Rome were present, but if he waited too long his hand really _would_ be ruined, and the place was deserted in any case. 

            She was safe…  Which meant she really couldn’t put it off any longer.  At least, not and not feel horrible for it later. 

            Taking another deep breath, she pushed a button on her phone to see her missed calls and hit send. 

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Theories? Super emotional chapter... and we've still got a bit to go...


	37. Sorrow Renewed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're only human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sighs and scrubs a hand through her hair* Every time I re-open this chapter, I forget how damn heavy it is, and editing it is a little too close to writing it was. The title kinda says it, but yeah, this one runs a little dark. 
> 
> Insofar as editing goes, it's mostly just been grammar and flow - Relena's exposition thinking about the end of the battle of Libra shifted slightly to add a couple extra details, but nothing ground-breaking
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you enjoy it.

**-**

**_Sorrow Renewed _ **

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**December 4 th 197 – Monday – Amsterdam, Netherlands – Roughly 10:45am**

            Milliardo rubbed tiredly at his eyes as the connection died; Relena had been startlingly cool towards him despite the disaster her plan had turned into.  She offered no remorse, no apology… and refused to say more about where she was beyond the fact that it was a previously arranged safe house and that they were quite removed from the panic lancing across the city. 

            When he had tried to rage at her for her stupid lack of caution she had bitingly informed him that she was _aware_ , as Colonel Miller was currently in the emergency room.  That had made him pause, knowing as he did how close of friends the two had become, before he asked for his condition, mind whirling at the idea that he might be losing yet another of his few friends.  Her icily flat voice had done little to assure him as she stated how the last she knew, he hadn’t regained consciousness yet.  Giving no more detail, she had curtly informed him that she would contact him in the afternoon when it might be safe to move again, and ended the call. 

            He wanted to ask where she had learned to be so frigid, but he was fairly certain that the answer was from _him_. 

            Well, at least she _was_ safe, even if Jake wasn’t… and he had brought along that contingent of men incase Miller led him on a wild goose chase – they might as well aid in relief efforts alongside the local troops he’d already deployed. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands – Safe house motel**

            Relena closed her eyes, chest shuddering after she ended the call and tossed her phone onto the bed, leaning back against the wall.  That had been… hard.  She let out a slow, deep breath, trying to calm the hitching in her voice that might lead to sobs, and covered her face with her one good hand.  Her entire left side was a screaming, throbbing agony, but somehow fighting off tears made it seem further away and easier to ignore. 

            Of course she knew this morning had spiraled into utter madness, but it had hardly been any one thing that caused it; and she had to make him realize she wasn’t a child to be led and have her hand slapped when she touched something breakable.  She had been ready to apologize, to be contrite and sob until she had heard his tone… but then she couldn’t help but be furious. 

            _How can he even think to act as though it couldn’t have happened to him?_   He had no _right_ to suggest that only _he_ had the right to make decisions, no right to impose his patronizing hypocrisy on _anyone_.  Respect was something you earned or lost, and he had squandered what value of respect he had when he tried to destroy the planet! 

            A small sob escaped her and she peered over her hand at the dingy little room…  He had no right, yet he owned her life now just as surely as he did a year ago, when she had started to concoct this mad plan of hers to wrest his power and her freedom from him.  She loved her brother, she couldn’t take that away no matter what he did, and she knew he cared about her probably more than anything, but it was just so horribly _unfair_ , that he was allowed to do these things and no one could _stop_ him…  What gave him any right to rule the world?  At least with her he could claim the control under protectiveness and her youth, but it was the same rules everywhere, for him… 

            _How can he be so insufferably arrogant?_   She wanted to scream, but she didn’t want Lincoln or Jerome to come check on her.  Jake would have understood, wouldn’t have made her feel embarrassed for crying, for the frustration and loathing of the pretty little cage her brother still kept her in despite everything, but Jake might be _dying_ and there was nothing she could do but feel so utterly _hopeless_ …  She started crying in earnest. 

            It was only a few moments before she was sick of it.  _Come on, get a hold of yourself…  You **know** you’re being melodramatic._   Jake was going to be fine.  Quite a lot of things had changed, herself most of all.  She could _do_ this… it wouldn’t be half so bad tomorrow, after she’d had time enough for her emotions to drain off and actually look at this morning from an objective stance.  She would stop wanting to burst into tears every moment her mind wandered once she heard back from Cassidy about how Jake was doing.  She wiped at her face even as a few more tears trailed down… and stared at her hand. 

            _Blood?_  

            For one insane moment, she thought she was crying blood.  Then the rational part of her mind kicked in and she realized the bottom half of her pants were coated and crusting over, as well as spots all along her jacket and blouse, and it was all _over_ her hand, under her nails and dried along the joints…  She’d tracked it into the room with her. 

            Why hadn’t anyone said anything?  Why hadn’t she _noticed_?  Then again, she’d been on such a single-minded track to get them safely away from the chaos that apparently she hadn’t considered it important enough to pay attention to… which actually might have been a more defensive part of her mind that knew if she’d recognized that she was covered in Jake’s blood there was a good chance of becoming hysterical, and that might have been deadly, out there.  Survival instincts being what they are or something, Jake might say.  Striding quickly to the bathroom, she decided that she _really_ didn’t need to cry anymore… but she needed to wash at least her face and hand _now_. 

            She turned on the faucet and took a deep breath before she let herself really _look_ at her reflection… she looked as though she had been through a massacre.  Blood was smeared over her cheeks and jaw, and even in her sweaty hair.  Her clothes and even the fabric of her sling were simply a loss, though she couldn’t throw them out now – she didn’t have anything else she could change into. 

            She let out a little smile that honestly just made her look even more terrible.  It was _such_ a good thing she didn’t keep a video-capable cell phone…  Her brother would have been much harder to negotiate with if he had been able to see her, even if none of the blood was hers. 

            Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to control the sob wracking her chest, trying to escape.  There had just been so much _blood_ flowing out from under the stage light, then completely covering him – though Tanner, who apparently had a fair amount of paramedic training, had said it was clotting well by the time they were secluded enough to stop and do some swift pressure bandaging with whatever they had available… which had mostly consisted of their socks and Lincoln’s belt.  She preferred knee-highs for the extra warmth and apparently she wasn’t alone in that; Jerome, Lincoln, and the woman who had helped, Katrien, had immediately proffered their own before Relena could understand exactly what Tanner was asking them about.  She had felt a touch flustered and slow-witted at the time, but had shoved down the emotion as being incredibly unhelpful while she watched Tanner work up improvised bulky bandages around Jake’s head and shoulder. 

            In retrospect, it was just as well; considering the state of her pants, her socks had to be soaked with blood too. 

            She had no desire to check. 

            Opening her eyes again, she grimaced at her reflection and brought her head down to the sink where she started splashing water on her face with one cupped hand and rubbing furiously. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands – Pub**

            Rina hugged her knees to her chest and stared dully at the tile floor, not really seeing it.  The employee bathroom had a little window nobody could honestly get through that was open just a little… 

            It was still loud out there. 

            The pub owner, Bryce, had barricaded the staff and all the current customers in as soon as it became obvious what was happening, though a few customers had insisted on leaving before he’d done it, danger or no.  And it really had been the right thing to do, considering the hungry looks of the people who had pressed by only minutes later, with the pub already filled past fire code safety and anything _approaching_ comfortable, but at the same time… 

            At the same time, _Luc_ was out there. 

            She’d been hysterical at first, protesting and getting light-headed, horrified until Bryce had pulled her aside and tried to talk to her.  Luc was smart, he would avoid trouble…  When everything cooled down, her husband would know how worried she must be, and he’d come to get her…  Calm down, it would be fine, take some time to yourself… 

            Except it had been a half hour, and the noise was still going strong. 

            The news coverage was patchy too, what with the original film crew having been caught up in everything as well, and the only footage now was live from helicopters… and it was still a mass of looting and fighting and running and trampling… the princess herself had almost been caught under part of the set. 

            She wasn’t going to cry… she just needed to wait until either Luc came to her.  Or once Bryce opens the doors again, I’ll go find him.  She couldn’t stop this horrible feeling of dread…  She pressed her eyes against her knees. 

            Everything was going to be okay.  It would…  It just had to be. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands – Safe house motel – 10:50am**

            Relena looked up without raising her head much, trying to see without dripping everywhere… there was still a little in a few of the little pieces that framed the right side of her face.  Ducking her head back down, she twisted so she could hold that part of her hair under the faucet and rub it at the same time, gritting her teeth as her left arm was pressed harder between her body and the sink.  _This would be so much easier to do with two hands…_   After she’d splashed enough water at her face to get her top and sling thoroughly wet she had recognized her own idiocy and used a washcloth, but the same method had hardly worked on her hair.  It wasn’t so hard as trying to scrub her right hand with the washcloth in her _left_ , but it still made her want to cry. 

            A minute or two later she grabbed a hand towel to half dry the wet hair enough to see if it was clean of blood or needed another dousing, and was fairly sure it was good.  Sighing, she turned off the faucet and buried her face in the hand towel, glad that at least that was over with; she wanted to curl up on the bed and try to forget her arm even _existed_ it hurt so badly, and she didn’t have her painkillers with her – Jake had been keeping her pillbox in one of his pockets.  _Jake…_   _He should be admitted to the hospital by now._   Hopefully Cassidy would call soon. 

            She scrubbed at her head for a bit longer, trying to get it dry, before setting the towel down and studying her reflection while combing her fingers through her hair.  _Much better._   There was nothing to be done for the clothes, but at least now she looked a bit less like she was in some horrid undead Halloween costume.  Straightening her coat and lifting her chin a little she could see herself as she was again, instead of the silly little girl from two or even just one year ago, and it made it easier to see how irrational her little breakdown had been.  She was Relena Darlian-Peacecraft, and she _was_ making a difference.  The haggard aspect of her appearance now even underlined that, despite the awful events of the morning. 

            She couldn’t help but sigh a little, though, when she saw that with all her splashing she’d gone and ruined the paper flower she’d taken to wearing in a buttonhole of her jacket.  She’d loved the little symbol of the people that it was, and had been so careful not to let it get crushed or anything… but it had both water _and_ a splotch of blood on it now. 

            Making a face, she reached over to weave the paperclip out of the hole.  _At least it’s one more thing I can clean up._   About to throw it in the wastebasket, she stopped, blinking at a water spot… then looked closer.  She was seeing letters, a ‘g’ and an ‘o’ penciled in the damp spot where the water had made the paper transparent. 

            It hadn’t just been a flower… it had a note hidden inside. 

            Awkwardly, she began to unfold it as fast as she could without ripping it. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands – Ritafore Hospital, 3 rd Floor – 11:00am**

            “Oh, Jake…” 

            Jake frowned, trying to make sense of his own head… something was wrong.  He wasn’t moving, and that made him start to panic before he realized the voice was familiar.  His tongue felt like it was made of lead and his eyelids were hardly any better, but… 

            “Don’t worry, your chart says your shoulder took most of the blow.  They want to do surgery in half an hour or so to fix the blood pressure in your head, but apparently it’s low risk.”  The voice was feminine, brisk and practical even while concerned.  He frowned again, trying to force his eyes to open.  _Lena?_   “They’ll do the shoulder later, once all the high risk patients are through.  Knowing you, you’ll be back in business in a couple weeks, even with your arm in a sling.”  _No…_   She sighed, a soft chuckling sort of sound, and scrubbed one hand through his hair, gently scratching and massaging his scalp so nice it felt like home, comfort when he’d been sick and little… 

            He couldn’t help but sigh into the motion and she chuckled a little again.  “Those really must be good drugs they’ve got you on.”  Then a moment later, quieter, “Thank-you for taking care of her, Jake… you saved her today.  And you should know, she saved you too.  You’ve a true friend in her.” 

              _It can’t…_   Her hand cupped his cheek, and she leaned in to touch foreheads with him for a moment; she was pulling away as he finally managed to crack his eyes open.  Everything was out of focus – all he could see was a fall of dark hair as she leaned forward then stood, stepping out of his line of sight even as his lids slammed shut again.  But he’d seen enough.  Laboriously licking his lips, he managed to croak out his question, his hope, to have _proof_ …  “Lu?” 

            Again, that chuckling sigh that was so _her_ he couldn’t be mistaken.  “I have to go; your lieutenant will be back any moment now.”  She grasped his hand in hers, gripped it tightly for a moment, and he returned it, a little.  “I’m glad you’re safe.”  She let go.  “I’ll see you again, I’m sure.”  A pause.  “Remember to take care of yourself too, okay?  Not just Relena.” 

            And then Lucrezia Noin walked out of the room, and back out of his life.  He didn’t have the strength to call her back.  

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands – Near Dam Square – 11:15am**

            Duo licked his lips as he considered the eighth set of soldiers that passed by with hardly a glance at him.  Of course, that might have had something to do with having Melissa, Robby, and Nic next to him in full Militia uniform; despite the more recent incidents with Militia members trying to abuse the power they were given after Brussels, the soldiers still, well… continued to over-trust them.  Though it wasn’t like they had much choice, with everything gone to such pretty hell – they needed everyone they could get… 

            It was just nerve-wracking to have them all consider and dismiss him, because he was _waiting_ for someone to recognize him.  _And the moment I stop worrying is the moment it’ll happen._   A good-sized piece of him said the _smart_ thing to do was go home and leave this to the other three with him because he really didn’t want to risk being discovered and dragging the rest of the Devils down with him, but… 

            They still had seven people they couldn’t account for. 

            Val had come home to try to ease a few minds, saying that Devries was in office and he was fine before he’d ducked back out to go back to work.  He’d gotten help from the others on chewing out Laura for ditching school to run home and confirm that the others she went with had agreed to stay put and were safe.  She’d wanted to go out in the middle of all this with them too, but… 

            He felt bad because she and Leah were _that_ close and knowing her friend was at the speech was what had sent her running home in the first place, but at the same time she could be about as reckless as Heero, and if he had _that_ worry whirring around his mind on top of everything else, he wasn’t sure he could stay calm enough to have it be worthwhile for _him_ to search.  And that wasn’t an option, because if he had to sit and wait for news that might never come when he might be out in the thick pulling one of his family out of danger, he would probably break out of the Den anyway and search alone instead of with a group.  And that really _would_ be stupid. 

            Holding in a sigh, he scanned the area again and found himself staring at a puddle of fresh blood.  Hopefully Luc and Shov were just still on duty, helping where they could.  Hopefully Mik, Katrien, and Leah had found each other and stayed close, even though they hadn’t gone to the speech as a group.  Hopefully they had just remembered Daan’s schedule wrong, and he was at work.  Hopefully Jamus was over at his girl’s place… 

            He hated that word.  It was something he’d long learned to never trust, because if you did it only made reality bite harder. 

            Melissa was giving him that calm, measured look she had when worried and he shook his head a little, not wanting to talk and knowing better than to try to grin it away for her.  Still, though…  “I’m not sure where to start,” he admitted quietly.  They weren’t at Dam Square yet, but he wasn’t as sure about going there in particular.  None of them would have stayed in the middle of _that_ given half a choice… which was probably why they should go there directly.  If they were hurt… 

            Rob glanced them all over for a second before deciding to take the initiative and jogged over to talk to one of the soldiers… and Duo focused on trying to remember that he was _Kasey_ now, innocent and with nothing to fear from authority, before his being skittish made someone look at him twice as hard. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam** **, Netherlands** **– Safe house motel**

            “So… Katrien, was it?” 

            “Mm-hmm.”  She purposefully kept her focus on the little handheld solitaire game she had brought to kill time in the crowd earlier.  One of the guys who had helped save the princess’ bodyguard, Taylor, had been half checking her out since he they had stopped to bandage the poor man up, and she _really_ wasn’t interested, at the very least just because she couldn’t stop worrying about Leah…  She _knew_ the other woman had been in the crowd with a couple of her work friends, and it hurt her stomach just to think about it.  The sooner he lost interest, the better. 

            “Are you a local or were you visiting?” 

            “Local,” she returned distractedly. 

            “Oh yeah?  What part of town?” 

            “The bad part.” 

            He let out a worried sort of chuckle.  “Oh come on, it can’t be _that_ bad.” 

            She snorted.  “I’m Devils’ Get, pretty-boy.  Kindly mind your own business.” 

            One of the guards made a choking noise in surprise before they both started to laugh, even as Taylor got all offended.  “I was just trying to make conversation.” 

            “And I really don’t feel like talking – I have family out there maybe getting killed.  So if you need conversation, kindly make it with someone else.” 

            Taylor scowled and muttered a few foul names under his breath that she pretended not to hear, and proceeded to cross his arms and pout, of all things.  She rolled her eyes.  _Good for you; get over it._   Everyone had their own worries, and apparently he had never learned that there were people who might not cater to his every whim. 

            She almost felt proud of herself for getting the message through to him.  Then again, having pride in something implied that you put some effort into it, so she focused back on her little game and not thinking too deeply about anything at all until there was something she might be able to do about it. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands – Pub – 11:20am**

            Karina stood by the window, looking out, waiting…  Trying to ease the dread rising in her gut.  It was still crowded, but nothing like before; Bryce had only opened the doors again five minutes ago and a lot of people had decided to head home, but plenty were still waiting for it to calm down more.  Mikal had decided to run home and make sure everyone knew they were okay, insisting that she should wait for someone to come check on her before leaving, whether it was him or somebody else.  He’d been worried because he wasn’t sure he’d told anyone he was planning on watching the screens at the pub instead of the live stage. 

            She had wanted to argue with him but knew he was talking sense…  Bryce had even told her it was fine if she wanted to leave early, that he understood… so she had said she would stay either until someone came to fetch her or thirty-five after, whichever came first.  But time was passing so _slowly_ , and… 

            _He would have stopped by, wouldn’t he?  Even if he was busy, he would have at least come to tell me he was okay, wouldn’t he?_   Luc would _know_ how worried she must be…  So why wasn’t he there? 

            Every explanation she tried to think of was worse than the last; she had never hated her imagination before. 

            She checked the clock again, but it hadn’t even been a minute since the last time she’d looked.  Letting out a frustrated sigh she turned back to the window… and decided that enough was enough.  Something was _wrong_ she could feel it, it didn’t _matter_ if it sounded crazy.  It was still busy enough that Bryce wouldn’t notice if she left alone and so, before she could change her mind, she grabbed her coat and quickly walked out.  She didn’t have any real idea where to start, but her feet seemed to, and that was good enough. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands – Unknown**

            “Hey, are you okay?  Can you hear me?” 

            He batted away the hand on his shoulder, or at least tried to…  It was harder to move than he’d thought. 

            “He’s alive,” the voice called out before grabbing his shoulder again.  “Hey, come on, you need to get to the hospital, you don’t look so good.” 

            _Hospital…_   There was something important… 

            “Aw, come on, buddy…”  It seemed like too much effort to try to shove the man away when he fished a hand around his neck and-   _Oh, the ID tags._   They had been issued with his uniform.  “Lucas?”  He only paused briefly before starting to shake his shoulder again.  “Come on, Lucas, it looks like you’ve lost a lot of blood.  I’m going to get some help to get you into our van so we can get you to the hospital, okay?  I’ll be right back.” 

            _Why is he calling me Lucas?  No one’s called me that in years…_  

            There was something important… but he couldn’t remember.  He just wanted to go back to sleep.  Just curl up with Sin and- 

            He frowned.  Rina wasn’t there…  _Where **am** I?_   Suddenly it clicked how strange this all was and he snapped his eyes open, looking around an old alley.  He was curled up against a pile of trash bags and there was blood on the ground, coating his right side, and- 

            He gasped as his mind finally registered the pain and the world spun, became confused again.  He started coughing… his head was pounding and the back of his neck was wet and he couldn’t _think_ , he just wanted to throw up, a-

            _Shov!_   Shov was laying bonelessly on the trash piled next to him, mouth slightly open, a trickle of blood running down the side of his face from his hairline, blood covering his body and bone showing through one leg of his pants… 

            He lost control of his stomach and started heaving up his breakfast then sat trembling, his shaking arms barely keeping him from falling into the mess.  _What happened?_   Desperately he tried to remember something, anything…  He hadn’t eaten anything red, though…  He stared down and started to heave again, though nothing but bile was left… bile and red. 

            _No…_   Oh _fuck_ , he was throwing up _blood_ … 

            He flinched away from the hand that tried to grab him and fell flailing backwards into the trash before his arm was caught and someone steadied him.  “Woah, buddy, it’s alright, I was just here, remember?”  Luc blinked at the man, really only taking in the military black uniform.  “I’m taking you to the hospital, remember?  This is my friend, I wasn’t sure I could get you loaded without help, remember?” 

            Luc barely saw the gesture to another man in uniform.  “And Shov?”  His voice sounded wrong, thick, but the way he looked at his friend must’ve said it clear enough because the soldier was nodding. 

            “Of course, we’re taking him too – we just weren’t sure if you knew each other.  Ricky, take his other side, I don’t want to jostle him any more than we have to…” 

            Shov wasn’t dead… they were going to the hospital…  Sleep dropped over him again like a thrown blanket. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands – Safe house motel – 11:25am**

            Relena closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the bed, no longer even trying to make sense of the knot of emotions hanging in her chest.  Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she dropped the heavily creased little piece of paper in her lap.  Sitting on the floor with her back against the bed, facing away from the door, she would have time to jam it under the bed before someone saw.  Jake was the only one who would go past the doorway without her asking in the first place, though, and Jake…  She clenched her jaw as tears started to stream down her face again. 

            She had hardly been in any state to read it in the first place…  _At least I recognized the shock sinking in from everything that already happened before the final straw broke the proverbial camel’s back?_   After realizing what the flower _was_ , seeing the God damn _signature_ , she’d set it on top of the toilet tank and put the little letter out of her mind entirely.  She couldn’t…  To keep everything from falling apart all over again, she’d focused instead on washing the worst of the blood out of her pants in the sink, because she _couldn’t_ wear them anymore… and then she needed to turn the shower on as hot as it would go and step into the stream herself. 

            She’d needed that.  Methodically working her fingers through her hair and delicately cleaning around the stitches in her arm had taken up all of her attention, and when she’d stepped back out to dry herself off she had felt oddly hallowed out and clean, even when she put her blood-stained shirt and sling back on.  She had resolutely resettled the hairdryer attached to the wall to blow on a more damp section of her pants before picking the letter back up and calmly moved into the bedroom area, pulling the blanket off the bed to wrap around her before sitting down on the floor.  More confident about her mental state, she had begun to read again… 

            …And started to cry again. 

            Finally, she had proof that one of them was alive and well, which made her want to rejoice more than anything…  She had even been in this same city the last time she had truly dared to hope, though the escaped prisoner she and Dorothy had come to see had been Hilde, not one of the gundam pilots.  There had been no _trace_ for so long that she had started to give up hope, then completely forgotten to think about them at all… _Only to have contact initiated when I was too oblivious to notice._   She couldn’t even remember what city that little boy had given her the flower in. 

            So while on one level her heart wanted to soar… she felt as though she was falling into oblivion.  _I can’t tell Jake._   A quiet wail _wrenched_ its way out of her at the epiphany because she _wanted_ to, more than anything, and yet…  _I **can’t**!_  

            He had trusted her enough to write this, even if it was clear no response was wanted, and she couldn’t say how her bodyguard might react… but she _knew_ what Milliardo would do, and she couldn’t let that happen.  She _wouldn’t_ …  Which meant she had to destroy the one piece of proof, of _hope_ , before she left this room. 

            Her hand shook.  More than anything she wanted to keep it, to have _something_ tangible to hang onto…  But Jake would find it eventually; the blood and water had already destroyed its camouflage. 

            _Jake…_   Cassidy had to call soon.  Jake _would_ be alright, he mattered so much more than a piece of paper had any right… 

            _A piece of paper that isn’t even from Heero._   Silent sobs started to wrack her chest again as she stared up at the ceiling, eyes streaming more than ever.  It wasn’t right, wasn’t fair, for her to be so upset that _Duo_ had sent her a tiny confirmation that he was alive instead of Heero, but she couldn’t seem to escape it.  And it was definitely from Duo, for all that he hadn’t truly signed it, and it was written in enough of a code that the note could probably have been from a fan of hers: Duo had been the only person in her _life_ who had ever had the nerve to greet her with _“Heya good-lookin’!”_  

            She appreciated it more than she would ever be able to say to him… but she still couldn’t help but despair that it wasn’t _Heero_ who could be bothered, and despite the wonder of hearing anything at all she wanted to just rage…  Rage and sob at the unfairness of it all… 

            _God, but it’s been a long day… and it’s not even noon yet._   This was getting ridiculous. 

            _And what exactly would Heero have **said** in a note?_ she demanded of herself as she finally dropped the paper altogether and wiped furiously at her face.  Heero had been hard enough to get half a conversation out of in _person_ when she was trying to _badger_ him into it, and she expected him to write her a note saying that he was doing okay?  That he had settled into a new life somewhere and was happy to see what she had done – that he was glad she was trying so hard?  She actually managed to snort at that.  _Yes, of course he would, how dare he be so impolite as to move on and **not** inform me?_  

            Really, they all had such _reasonable_ expectations of the man it was no wonder he had done some of his more insane stunts during the war. 

            Self-destructing his gundam just because he was told to surrender.  Blocking rubble from crushing her to death instead of shielding against all the MS shooting at him.  Dueling a master pilot in a suit he had never flown before just to make a point.  Confronting a tactician gone insane in a MS that was almost entirely defensive in nature.  Fighting a suicidal battle to protect her kingdom.  Kidnapping _her_ , the baby sister of the man giving all the orders, off a battleship the size of a _city_.  Battling her brother even in the planet’s _atmosphere_ to keep him away from where Trowa and Quatre were breaking up as much of _Libra_ ’s remains as they could –diving straight through fire to take one last shot at the station with the buster rifle that had destroyed entire _colonies_ at point blank range. 

            There was a group of people who had run the statistics on the pilots, and on everything that had happened at _Libra_.  The facts of atmospheric entry and all its dangers had gone viral while everyone was still scrambling to figure out how much damage had been done, and the simple fact was that falling to Earth with anything less than perfect precision carried a fatality rate close to sixty percent.  Staying in the critically heated incline of the atmosphere while in melee, let alone the last minute plunge and literally _intentionally_ firing a gun the equivalent of an atom bomb with the target less than two hundred yards away… 

            Heero had been _insane_ , that Christmas morning.  Desperately, selflessly, utterly _insane_ , and literally the only reason they had a home to return to at all.  He ought to have been dead ten times over in as many minutes, and instead he had saved them all… and disappeared into thin air. 

            _He always did like to push his limits._   Every time it looked as though he would have to give up, he had just punched through instead, no matter how impossible, _every single time_ …  Was it any wonder she had been so enthralled with him?  She would never be able to forget him throwing the paramedics she had called for over the railing of the beach stairs and stealing their ambulance too, but that seemed altogether paltry and insignificant compared to the rest.  The numerous attempts at suicide by casualty early on painted an ugly picture of what had happened to make him so dreadfully, _recklessly_ remarkable, but she was fairly sure he’d stopped that by the time OZ had captured Quatre and started their experiments with them on the Zero System.  He’d still been standoffish in Sanc, but so much calmer too, serene in spite of that magnetic, frenetic aura… 

            _The more he endured, the more powerful he became.  What must he be like now?_  

            Relena found herself smiling, just a little.  Wherever he was, she knew he was okay.  _Nothing_ could kill Heero, not even himself; he’d more than proven that before.  He just wasn’t the type to be social, or remember that other people liked to be reassured with words as well as actions…  That was more like Quatre, or Duo. 

            Or more recently, like Jake. 

            Sighing, she crawled out of the blanket and went back into the bathroom to check on her pants and to wash her face again… and to rip the once-flower into tiny pieces that wouldn’t clog the toilet when she flushed it.  Duo had implied well enough that he had no wish to be found, and it was better to take care of that before someone came in to check on her. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands – Near Dam Square**

            Karina walked along briskly, arms wrapped around herself.  Coat or no, it was cold, and it was something of a comfort… she was panicking again, though this time she understood it, at least.  Luc could be _anywhere_ , hurt or healthy, and she wouldn’t have a clue wandering around aimlessly.  Not that it would have been any better had she stayed at the damn pub; she’d never been the type to allow herself to feel helpless.  Even though she’d managed to lose most of the bitter taste of life in her mouth after making friends with Chaos, she had hardly lost her cynicism – she just hadn’t _needed_ it anymore, spending almost all of her time in the safety of the Devils’ Den. 

            But today, she really didn’t want to believe the voice whispering one possibility over and over in the back of her mind.  Going would make it real, if she was right, and she had never wanted so much to label herself as paranoid…  But it was a logical conclusion, and she wasn’t stupid. 

            _Besides,_ she decided as she swallowed her dread and began to walk in the direction of the hospital, _it’s just one place to check off.  Once I see he’s not there, it’ll stop bothering me._  

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands – Ritafore Hospital – 11:35am**

            Melissa strode boldly though the sliding doors to the check-in desk and drummed her fingers lightly on the counter as Duo trailed after her.  Robby and Nicolaas had gone to check the pub Rina worked at, with the promise to meet back at the hospital as soon as they could.  There was no way any of them were going anywhere alone that day, and after meandering fruitlessly for a while, it had seemed like the best idea was to just see who was admitted, whether for little stuff or big.  The Regime soldiers were actually doing a really good job clearing everyone out and administering aid, breaking up and fights or other bits of violence they found…  If he wasn’t so worried about one of them recognizing his face, he would have thanked some of them. 

            A harried-looking nurse finally focused her eyes on Melissa after she’d been tapping for a good fifteen seconds.  “What?” 

            “I need a list of the current admitted militia patients for records and dispensation,” the Dutch girl explained succinctly.  “I also need to know where you’re keeping the unidentified.” 

            The nurse frowned.  “We’re taking in more of both by the minute,” she retorted.  “By the time I got you a list, it would already be outdated.” 

            Melissa shook her head in return.  “I know, but the folks down in the office want to get started on what they can as soon as possible; they’ll pick up the new lists as it goes and update from there.” 

            The nurse considered Melissa’s uniform for only a moment more before fiddling with her computer and a sheet began to print out.  Not bothering to look at them again, she gave them brisk directions to a different wing and handed Melissa the short stack of papers full of names before picking up the phone and dialing, obviously dismissing them. 

            He supposed that was okay; it really was something of a madhouse in the entrance to the emergency room.  She had a job to do, after all, and she had already given them what they needed without any fuss.  He started to follow Melissa as she walked purposefully in one direction, and nearly froze when he caught a glimpse of a familiar face sitting on the floor in an overcrowded area – all the seats _everywhere_ were taken – nose tucked in a paperback. 

            He caught himself before he could draw attention and focused back on Melissa’s back.  You got a big enough crowd of people together, you always found somebody who looked like somebody you knew…  Hell, he remembered thinking that Shov was somehow Heero that night he had first met any of the Devils, since the two of them had the same timbre and tone of voice. 

            That chick just… her face looked an awful lot like Noin’s, was all.  Eerily so. 

            Melissa was leaning against the wall now flipping through the stack for the names they were looking for.  There was an Ahlen, listed, but it wasn’t Mik.  No Binglemans.  Three Boschmanns, one of them even Dane, but listed as female; Daan wasn’t in.  Feeling better for finding that much allowed some hope that any of their theories about who was where were right.  They shared a smile, even as Melissa licked her lips and started shuffling through faster to get to the r’s – no Ruttenburgs – then to the v’s, running her finger down the names… and froze. 

            _Van Rhinn, Doushovel.  Admitted, awaiting diagnosis.  Black._  

            Kay swallowed.  He was right around the corner from them, then; they could find him in a minute.  If Shov was admitted though…  Melissa was already flipping to the next page to find the name. 

            _Von Koll, Lucas.  Admitted, awaiting diagnosis.  Red._  

            They came as close to running as was possible, crowded by so many people.  Then someone was claiming only family could be allowed in and even as Melissa flashed her militia badge he dug out his wallet with his ID reading “Kasey von Koll” and muttered that his brother was in there, getting a nod in return…  The security was more for show than anything.  After a glare or two they slowed down to a brisk jog, eying the faces of everyone they passed.  There were the normal little curtained stalls, but then there were wheeled beds and cots and people in blankets on the couches and even the floor in some places, wounded _everywhere_ …  Swallowing the bile rising up his throat he scanned over and over again, worried he was missing them even as they kept walking.  There were nurses everywhere, doctors practically sprinting between patients and snatching up charts, and everyone looked identical under hospital gowns or blankets- 

            And then he saw Rina. 

            Her face was red from crying, her crystal blue eyes glistening inside the black smears of running eyeliner surrounding them as she let out a heart-wrenching sob…  And he was at her side in an instant.  She was arguing with a nurse who looked like she was about to cry too, though the woman still simply shook her head and gestured with a manila folder before she tucked it back into the bars of Luc’s cart and reached over his chest to pull a red tab off some sort of tag on his chest, leaving only black.  She apologized softly through Rina’s protests and hurried off to start checking the vitals of the next person who had both red and black tabs; someone else began wheeling in another bed, and that guy had a yellow ticket attached beneath the red…  Then a nurse came in from the opposite end of the hall and glanced around before taking the locks off one bed seemingly at random and starting to quickly roll them away…  That patient had only a black tab left. 

            And suddenly he realized, and found himself wrapping hands around the railing of the hospital bed to keep from falling.  Shov wasn’t in here anymore, he had been listed as black when they got the list, and they had just…  _Triage._   They were cutting their losses, singling out those they didn’t think they could help… 

            _Oh God no, please no, no, no…_   His breath was hitching in his chest as Karina started bawling in earnest, standing on her tip-toes to lean over the railing and try to lay her head on her husband’s chest, reaching for his face and trying to talk to him, saying his name…  Luc twitched slightly in response, blinking blurrily at her and frowning, trying to cup her face in one hand – he looked confused. 

            “Rina?  Rina, baby, what’s wrong?”  His voice was barely a mumble.  “Don’t cry… Wha…  What’s-”  He broke off to cough, hard, and Kay could see the bloodstains creeping up from his back and through the heavy bandaging on the back of his neck, the gold blonde hair just above stained dark red… and when he finally stopped coughing and fell back, his hand was red too.  Tongue crimson, teeth tinted – his eyes weren’t staying focused- 

            Melissa had stepped around behind the two of them to reach the latches that brought to rail down to be level with the thin mattress and Kay lost his balance for a moment as the support was taken away and Rina more or less fell the rest of the way onto Luc’s chest as he ran his fingers through her hair, trying to calm her down, not seeming to realize it was _him_ she was upset about…  He didn’t seem to know what was happening at all. 

            He looked up at him and Melissa over Karina’s head, utterly bewildered and asking for help.  Kay felt frozen.  It was happening again…  Luc was dying and delirious, the same way Solo had been in the last fits of fever and there was nothing… absolutely _nothing_ he could do about it.  He wanted to run.  He wanted to howl like Rina was, he wanted to curl up in a ball and plug his ears and try to believe that none of this was really happening, that it was all a dream, that he was going to wake up any moment- 

            ‘Liss slid into the space by Luc’s head and gently leaned over to kiss his forehead and give him a sad smile, tears running down her cheeks.  “We love you, Luc…”  Rina had her face buried in her husband’s chest as she cried, so Melissa wiped away the tears that sprung to her old friend’s eyes as understanding finally seemed to dawn on him.  “We all do… more than anything.”  She brushed a hand through his hair and cupped his face with one hand for a moment, trying to gather herself enough to talk around the tears streaming faster down her face now, sniffling a bit.  “I’m…”  She fought with herself for another moment and cleared her throat few times.  “I’m going to _miss_ you so _much_!” she finished with a sob, pressing her forehead to his, noses touching for a long moment.  “You’ve always… been a brother to me,” she managed to croak out, shuddering for a few more seconds as he reached up to grip the hand she had pressed to his head in a return of the embrace before she pulled away and wiped at her face.  Rina slid up as ‘Liss moved away and Luc clutched at her as desperately as she was him and started whispering in her ear as she sobbed harder. 

            Duo jumped when Melissa turned and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder and shaking, but it was only a moment before he pulled her closer out of instinct if nothing else, running a hand over her hair as he stared at Luc and Rina, watched his lips tighten around a sob of his own before he whispered again, “I’m sorry…  I’m sorry, Rina, I’m so sorry…  I love you, I love you so much, tell Renee I love her, that I’m sorry…” 

            For once, he didn’t feel like he was any less of a man for giving in and crying. 

            He hid his face in Melissa’s hair, but after a few minutes, when he felt eyes on him, he looked up and saw the question, the _plea_ in Luc’s eyes… and gave him a single solid nod in answer.  He didn’t even have to ask: they both knew he would take care of them, but he disentangled himself from Melissa to grip his friend, his _brother’s_ hand tightly and lean in close for a moment where Duo had to swallow around the lump that rose in his throat hearing Rina’s hitched, shallow breathing right by his ear.  He glared when a nurse looked like she wanted to move Luc’s cot so that she moved on instead and stood back, letting the couple have what time was left… burying his nose in Melissa’s hair and breathing deeply, trying to calm down his shaking.  She wrapped his arms back around her with her back to his chest and watched them, crying unabashedly all the while in a sort of vigil.  Rina quieted as she half laid across him, listening to him talk as he held her… 

            And when he stopped moving, stopped breathing, Duo pulled her away and into his own arms as she started to wail in earnest again.  He didn’t try to offer any words of comfort; he sure as hell didn’t have any.  But maybe holding her was enough for now, just keeping her from collapsing and feeling completely alone…  She needed him.  Meeting Melissa’s eyes over Karina’s head, he knew it wasn’t just Rina and Renee that needed him now… and not just Melissa either.  They were all family, all the Devils, and he needed them just as much. 

            They would pull together and make it, because there wasn’t any other choice; no matter what he was scared of, no matter what happened from now on, he would handle it.  Swallowing hard and looking down at the blonde in his arms, he realized he would never be running from any of the Devils no matter what happened… and that that was the way it was supposed to be. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands – Ritafore Hospital – 1:00pm**

            Katrien Ruttenburg couldn’t help but look around the hospital entrance with wide eyes as she kept pace with the group she was accompanying, not wanting to lose the clout that traveling with the princess gave her until she had found out what she wanted.  She’d been told they would take care of it as soon as they were able to see the man they had saved earlier, and Katrien couldn’t mind that… she’d actually started to look forward to it herself.  He’d looked so terrible and at first that she’d been convinced he’d die anyway.  It would be nice to see that she had done something right today – that not everything had fallen into pieces.  It would be nicer to see her own family alright, but she couldn’t help the fear gnawing in her stomach.  She had asked to come along because she wanted to check the hospital too… but at the same time she didn’t really want to know, not if it meant… 

            She shook her head a little and focused back on the diminutive little princess, for all that the girl more than made up for her height in presence and attitude.  There was no question that she was in charge just from the way she moved, and at the same time she wasn’t bad company – at least, she wasn’t after she had corrected Katrien that it was Miss _Darlian_ -Peacecraft, not Peacecraft.  As soon as she had heard the Dutch woman was part of the administrative branch of the Militia she had even become talkative, genuinely interested in hearing how the program was doing – and prodding for the worst stories as well as the better, which Katrien couldn’t help but admire her for. 

            The next time someone tried to say that the princess was merely an idealist, they’d have to deal with Kat; anyone who could go through what she had today and sit on the floor of a shit motel in the cold, arm in a sling and shivering, wrapped up in a blanket, and _still_ critically analyze the details of how well one program was helping a particular city had her respect.  There was idealism there too, sure, but Relena _Darlian_ -Peacecraft was just as down to earth as any of the Devils despite her pretty words, and, well… she _deserved_ the reputation she’d been building.  She had been curious about the group style of living that Katrien admitted to as well, but had only gained herself _more_ respect by not prodding for more details when Kat purposefully skimmed over them. 

            The princess had said something about a reward and had had one of her guards take down the names and work information for all three of them that had stayed to help, though the details were left open.  Kat found she didn’t care overly much; she hadn’t done it for a reward, though she had definitely seen the appeal of moving with a group instead of alone.  She’d mostly done it because it had seemed the right thing to do, really… though she wasn’t about to protest some sort of award either. 

            They were quickly met in the lobby by the guard from before, whose hand was now heavily wrapped up, and he muttered something about the third floor before leading the way to the elevators.  Katrien locked her hands together and tried her best to not fidget too much; she did want to see the princess’ head of guard, but more importantly, Relena had promised to walk over to the nurses’ station right after and have them pull the names for all the Devils that she thought might have been out and about today.  She had written up a list after Miss Darlian-Peacecraft had poked her head into the connecting room the rest of them had been in and had admitted she needed company to keep her mind off the pain and to pass the time faster.  The menfolk had just blinked at her at first, so Katrien had shrugged and wandered into the next room, and found herself actually happy to talk herself so long as it wasn’t the utterly frivolous nonsense that Taylor man had tried to dredge up… and somehow, she had made a kind of friend with the princess while they waited to be called about Jake Miller’s condition. 

            _That counts for **something** , right?_  She’d focus on taking what she could get from a day like this. 

-

***

-

            Mary Jean Sabetta jumped as someone in uniform entered the room, then only barely kept herself from gaping as Relena Peacecraft came in with a blonde woman behind them.  The guards nodded briefly to acknowledge her but the princess affected not to notice as she strode over to Colonel Miller’s bedside and took hold of one of his hands, looking both relieved and worried at once. 

            “They said he probably won’t wake from the anesthetic for another hour at the earliest,” Lieutenant Cassidy Foreman told them.  “The plan is to start transferring him to a hospital back in Brussels before then, though; they’re not as swamped and can take care of his shoulder sooner.  He didn’t break anything, but it’ll need treatment.” 

            “Good,” Relena murmured, and after another moment she let go and turned back to the blonde that had come with them.  “Well, that sounds like we’ll be leaving soon, so let’s go get the nurses to release their information on your family.  Lin, with us.  Everyone else, we shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”  And with that she was walking back out. 

            Mary Jean finally managed to unfreeze herself and stood.  “Wait, you shouldn’t be-” 

            The third Lieutenant cut her off.  “She’ll be fine with Lieutenant Sobrie, ma’am.” 

            The woman scowled.  “She shouldn’t be _here_ at all, sir.  Mr. Peacecraft was under the impression that she was to be hidden in Miller’s safe house until such time as she could be-” 

            “She’s here now, and she might as well take her transport back with the colonel,” the Lieutenant interrupted again.  “We received no orders to stay where we were; as I understood it, Mr. Peacecraft himself had no idea where the safe house was located, which would have made it difficult for him to arrange a pick-up.” 

            Mary Jean pressed her lips together, not liking his disregard… but surely it would be more dangerous to send the princess back _out_.  “I will be calling Mr. Peacecraft, then, to let him know she is here.  Your name, Lieutenant?” 

            He rolled his eyes even as he walked over to take stand where the princess had, eyes on his superior.  “Jerome Moretti.” 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam** **, Netherlands** **– Unknown**

            “How is he, kid?” 

            Lucrezia Noin sighed as she tossed her coat onto the room’s bed, reaching up to unwind her scarf.  “He should recover fine, Howard.  Sorry I interrupted everything to go check on him.” 

            The gray-haired man waved a hand and pushed up the ridiculous sunglasses he still insisted on wearing indoors, and she smiled at the image he made.  He claimed light sensitivity, but sometimes she wondered if they were just to keep up the running bets the man’s workmen had on his eye color.  “I was interested in knowing too.  Just because I haven’t seen him in a few years doesn’t mean I don’t care any.”  He walked back over to the coffee pot and poured her a new mug.  “Here I must have the worst sort of luck, picking out a day like this for our meet here.”  He smiled in a self-deprecating way as he handed it to her and returned to nursing his own.  “And I thought it was all too clever, hiding our coming in with all the fuss over Relena.” 

            Lucrezia sighed as she wrapped her cold hands around the hot ceramic and took a sip.   _Mm…_   Howard’s brew was so much better than what had come out of the machine in Ritaford’s lobby.  _Apparently Sweeper quality applies to kitchen appliances too._   Considering the quality of the little espresso maker he was getting it from – all chrome lines and incomprehensible controls – he had to have brought his own machine as well as beans.  “Sometimes things just happen, Howard, you know that.” 

            “Of course.”  He grinned a bit, leaning back against the wall of the tiny hotel room they were meeting in.  “So, you ready for what I was about to say before you went barreling out?” 

            She smiled a little sheepishly around her cup, giving him an amused look.  “Of course.”  She shifted a little, getting comfortable on the bed.  “What news is there from space?”  

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands – Devils’ Den – 1:20pm**

            Katrien burst into the house the moment the door opened, trying to look everywhere at once, not bothering to wipe away the tears streaming down her face, only to be pulled into someone’s arms a moment later.  “Kat!  Thank God, you’re okay!  Everyone, it’s Katrien!”  She could hear others exclaiming similarly, coming nearer, and she just relaxed and let… let Carlos hold her up for a minute as she started to cry in earnest. 

            He tried to shush her and pull her closer, saying it was okay now, but she shook her head, still crying.  “I went to the hospital, I… Luc, Luc’s-” 

            “Shh…  We know, Kat, we already know…”  She could feel him shaking too.  “We…  You’re not gone too though, okay?  We…”  He could feel him swallow hard.  “We’ll pull together and make it through.  He wouldn’t’ve wanted any different, huh?” 

            She kept crying, but she nodded into his shoulder all the same. 

-

***

-

**China**

            Wufei stood frozen watching the news, not even hearing Kailì’s family exclaiming or talking around him.  Little by little, it was starting to happen over again, the first pieces falling into place… 

            Only he wasn’t one of the players anymore. 

            Turning abruptly away, he ignored the children and stepped into the kitchen where Xiu Juan was cooking dinner.  When she looked up, he didn’t bother trying to find nice words; it wasn’t as though Kailì’s wife ever did for him.  “Put me to work.”  He needed to feel like he was doing something, even if it was as inconsequential as dinner. 

            The viper of a woman actually smiled at him and gestured over at some vegetables that needed to be cut.  “Good boy.  There’s hope my husband might corrupt you yet.” 

            Wufei decided it wasn’t worth it to comment on that.  Xiu Juan just laughed. 

-

***

-

**Brussels, Belgium – 5:00pm**

            Relena gave in to the urge and reached forward to brush Jake’s dishwater bangs out of his face; he was going to be okay.  The critical period was over, and he was going to look silly with that patch of his hair shaved from where they had had to make the incision, but knowing him she had no doubt he would find some way to make it look good.  She smiled slightly.  _Such utterly irrelevant thoughts…_  But she couldn’t make herself mind.  It was _over_ with now, she didn’t have to think about anything life-wrenching anymore… 

            She didn’t want to think at _all_ for a few more hours, at least. 

            He shifted slightly in his sleep and she leaned back, not wanting to wake him.  He was still in the hospital, because they had wanted the anesthetic from the first surgery to completely wear out of his system before they started the next operation to work on the shoulder.  He hadn’t broken anything, but one of the muscles had nearly been severed – the next procedure would stitch it back together to heal properly.  He didn’t need to wake up now, especially when he would just hurt more. 

            David had been in earlier, but since Relena had made it clear she had no intention of moving until she was made to, he had decided not to cancel the training he was putting his recruits through; since she was there, he was fine with just coming back after six.  She hadn’t been able to help but grin at that, enjoying the acknowledgement – his trust that she would watch over his best friend for him.  Not, of course, that he really _needed_ one of them to watch over him in a hospital, but that didn’t change the trust. 

            She sighed a little, watching him sleep.  Being here _almost_ made her feel good enough to forget the irrational but still present grief that Heero had never tried to contact her. 

            It didn’t even come close to letting her forget Katrien crying on her shoulder when she learned that someone she’d looked to as an older brother was dead, though. 

            She had used her status to get the hospital to shift its priority on the surviving patient from her family back off of the ‘expectant’ list and hopefully he would make it, but…  But she knew well enough that that wouldn’t take away any of the other woman’s grief.  She had made sure Miss Ruttenburg had a good handle on herself before heading home, but at the time, that was all she had been able to do. 

            She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to cry _again_.  Today had apparently been a good day for feeling absolutely _useless_. 

            _Well…  at least tomorrow will have to be better._   She couldn’t help but smile a little smile that had nothing to do with being happy.  _After all, it would have to be **Libra** falling all over again to be worse, at this point._  

            She bit back a chuckle that was a little too close to hysterical for her liking. 

-

***

-

**Amsterdam, Netherlands – Devils’ Den**

            Melissa quietly cracked open the door to her and Kay’s room and peered in.  He had taken Renee when Rina hadn’t been able to do any more than keen upon having her daughter brought into the room, but that had been over an hour ago.  She had checked…  She blinked back the tears that threatened again.  She had checked Luc and Karina’s room first after it had been clear that he wasn’t in any of the social areas, but it had been empty.  Empty enough to have given into the tears for another minute or two before realizing she could see the light was on from the crack under her own door. 

            The little girl was asleep now, bundled up in the little portable crib they had found at a second-hand store before she was born.  Kay was sitting on their bed of blankets with his knees pulled to his chest, back against the wall, staring at her… and for a moment Melissa too simply watched the baby’s chest rise and fall, and took comfort from it.  It just wasn’t fair… 

            First it had been her mother when she was ten, to cancer; then Renee’s namesake, Melissa’s best friend, when they were thirteen to the car accident that had taken both her and Mrs. von Koll.  Mr. von Koll had died just two years later in 194 from a heart attack.  And now Luc too…  Life was never any fucking fair.  Little Renee was supposed to have been the turning point, where things like that weren’t going to happen to them anymore – enough had already been so bad that they were due some real good… 

            And it had all just crashed again. 

            She came the rest of the way into the room and looked to Kay instead.  His eyes glistened, but no tears fell.  And she could hear him telling her, that day that seemed so long ago now, that he didn’t want to tell her about his past because he was scared he would jinx what good he’d come into now; how she’d told him what she had been insisting to herself every time she had picked herself back up, that not everything always broke down…  And it had seemed like it really wouldn’t. 

            Until today. 

            _No._   She dropped down onto the bed next to him and threw her arms around him, burying her wet eyes in his shoulder.  _No,_ she told herself again as Kay slowly started to respond, to ever so slowly turn his head towards her and move his arms to wrap back around her in return.  _It’s not all ruined, it was **never** all ruined, there’s still Dad, still **Nolan** , still… still the rest of us that Luc pulled together.  Still the baby, little Renee.  He’s gone but we’re still here, Kay’s still here too, and…_  And they would pick up the pieces and find a way to keep moving on.  Luc was gone and… and maybe Shov too by now, but that didn’t mean everything was. 

            She pulled her head away from his shoulder to look up at him, but he was watching Renee again.  Kay…  Kay really _had_ lost everything but himself, more than once, and he’d made it.  If he could do it, then surely any of them could now.  And he _wasn’t_ alone this time, he had all of them to lean on if he needed, he had _her_ and she already knew she loved him and would do anything for him… she had been waiting for him to finish realizing it for the past few weeks.  After another long moment she felt him sigh and press his lips to the top of her head and breathe in like he always did to calm down, and she tightened her grip on him for a second to show she’d felt it.  For a while they just sat like that, arms wrapped around each other listening to the other’s breathing, lost in their own thoughts. 

            She remembered him explaining where his real name had come from at Luc and Rina’s wedding back in May, the first bit of his past he had let her know…  Her mind kept coming back to it, ever since he had held her in the hospital while they cried.  That he had missed it because it had meant that he was living for more than one person… and she had known, after learning the rest in July, that while he had named himself for that boy he said was like Luc, that every other person who had cared for him and died were included in that too, somehow.  It had been so heartbreakingly endearing, but she could see why he would both want to forget yet wish he could keep his name, some piece of what it had all meant to him… still meant to him, for all that he might try to deny it.  He wanted to say his past had all been for nothing, but she knew he couldn’t really believe it; that was why could still get so scared about it sometimes… 

            And some things were important enough to keep, whether they made you sad or not. 

            “Kay?”  She licked her lips.  “I think…  I think from now on, when no one else is around…  I’m going to call you Duo.”  She heard his breath catch.  “Because you _are_ living on for them… and Luc now too.”  Her chest started to shudder again, making her stutter harder.  “And…”  She swallowed.  “And I think… I think he’d-”  Her voice hitched.  “He’d be proud… happy… to… to still be a part of something…” 

            Kay… Duo… turned to face her fully, pulling her into a crushing embrace so that she could hardly breathe, but she could feel him shaking, and she couldn’t mind. 

            Tomorrow was going to be hard enough to face; they could use a little faith.

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

** End **

**-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …For the record, this chapter was an utter emotional wrecking ball to write, and editing it was nearly as bad. I had to make a playlist specifically for a few of the scenes. That said, it was worth it, and I hope you felt the weight of it at least half as much as I did. Thanks for reading; the epilogue follows this, then the sequel is also posted.


	38. Epilogue: Rise Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter holidays through the birth of a new revolution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit notes: There's a little more detail added to Odin and Adam's descriptions of mecha than the original, but otherwise any changes are grammatical.

_ **Epilogue: Rise Again** _

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**December 27 th 197 – Wednesday – L5**

            Leia smiled indulgently as she watched the McGee children squeak and squeal.  The younger ones were making snow angels and tossing handfuls of snow that could hardly be called snowballs at each other as the older ones worked with David to try to make a snowman, with varying degrees of success.  She didn’t think any of them had ever seen enough snow in one place before to understand how.  Most colonies included snow in the weather schedule now and again, but generally never so much – it required colder temperatures than most were willing to tolerate for more than a day.  But this one had gone full stop for Christmas this year and were having _true_ snow for a whole week… and the turnout had probably made it worth the cost and complaints.  Adults and children alike were exclaiming in delight everywhere you looked, and the smell of evergreen permeated everything… 

            She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on that for a long moment.  Coming here had been both easier and harder than she had imagined.  There was no denying the good cheer in the air, it was infectious, but at the same time- 

            “Mom!  _Mom_!” 

            At the same time there were children everywhere, and it made her want to sob inconsolably. 

            “ _Mom_!” 

            The child was shrieking her throat raw, and as Leia opened her eyes she saw the McGee mothers turning to look despite knowing exactly where their children were.  Dr. McGee had stopped to look as well, looking concerned – there enough desperation in that tone to be alarming.  In spite of herself, she was turning as well, and- 

            Her heart leapt up in her throat and she froze.  _It couldn’t be._   “Marie?” 

            The girl was close enough now that she could see the snap of acknowledgement in her eyes before she’d slammed into her, arms thrown around her waist.  “ _Mom_ ,” she cried again, and Leia could hear the tears choked up in her voice even as she gripped at her little girl…  She was _here_ … 

            She broke Mariemaia’s grip on her so she could get down on one knee and pull her into a death grip properly; her daughter still hadn’t come into her height.  “Oh Marie…”  Her throat tried to close on the words but she swallowed.  _She’s alive, she’s **here**._   “I’ve been so worried!  I thought I would never find you – the household disappeared practically overnight, and then the raid and no mention even in the news!”  Her eyes were streaming like a faucet but she couldn’t care less.  Christmas had come two days late, but it was the brightest she had ever had all the same. 

            Marie let out a hysterical little giggle.  “I ran away…  I realized he didn’t care and I stole a ship and ran away, but it took me to Earth on autopilot and I got lost…  Oh Mom, we’ve been looking and looking for you for months!” 

            _We?_   Still holding her daughter, she raised her head…  and sure enough, standing a few yards away was a blonde young man who couldn’t be more than eighteen.  He smiled a little when he saw her looking at him and shrugged, looking confident yet still a little awkward… and Leia smiled.  Whoever he was, he had brought Mariemaia back to her despite the odds and Marie was already starting to chatter on about how he’d taken care of her – he couldn’t be too bad.  She had time to get to know him; she had _Marie_ back, safe and sound, likely thanks to him…  She owed him the world.  “Dr. Leyda Keissler,” she introduced warmly. 

            “Odin Lowe.” 

-

***

-

**December 31 st 197 – Sunday – Brussels, Belgium**

            “-going to be a completely unmitigated _disaster_ , I’m telling you!”

            Dorothy nodded agreeably, even though she really couldn’t care less about how distressing Lincoln had found the situation, debating if she could get away with pulling her nail file out of her purse…  the middle one of her left hand wasn’t even anymore.  _Mm…_   She was fairly certain Lin knew she wasn’t paying strict attention anyhow…  

            After all, it couldn’t really be _that_ bad, with how calm Jake and Relena were. 

            They both jumped slightly as the door opened and David Mitchell strode quickly in and focused on them with a grin.  “All ready to roll?” he asked, a little too cheerfully.  “Drinks, snacks, noisemakers, upholstery cleaner?”  He blinked and snorted slightly to himself.  “Even better, I’d forgotten the couches in here were leather.” 

            Dorothy gave Mitchell a level look.  “I don’t clean.” 

            “Leather?” Lin asked a moment later, eying the colonel suspiciously. 

            “Much easier to clean blood-splatter off of,” the man returned cheerfully.  Lin moaned and moved to hold his head in his hands as he continued.  “It’s hell to get out of cloth, trust me.” 

            She narrowed her eyes at that, trying to decide if he was actually serious or not…  “If anyone gets blood on my jacket there will be hell to pay,” she decided after a moment. 

            Mitchell outright _chortled_.  “Make sure you tell them that, Heiress.” 

            “This is a _bad_ idea,” Lin protested again.  “Are his ribs even healed yet?” 

            “Mm, he has a good enough job to have gotten Remalene treatment to make it go along faster, so probably.”  He moved over to poke through the drinks along the table.  “And so long as Jake still has his arm in a sling, he’s not likely to rise to Jack’s bait and start a real fight; that and since it’s New Year’s and not early Fall, Jake won’t be so high strung that Jack wants to get a rise out of him just for spite.  All in all, it’s actually the best chance for a blood-free encounter between them that I’ve ever seen – and that includes the points where we’d only have lunch with the main for an hour outside some airport.” 

            _…Because that sounds all **kinds** of promising._   Dorothy opened her mouth to ask what Mitchell was on about, because _she_ certainly hadn’t been in on all these details when she’d learned that Jake’s father was going to do New Year’s with them, but was stopped short when Valerie and their other friends down in Reconstruction bounced into the room.  Kelly focused on her and grinned.  “Dorothy!” 

            “Kelly!” she returned with equal enthusiasm, which made the other woman start giggling outright, bouncing over to sit on the arm of the couch next to her and hold out a tiny external drive. 

            “Come on, quick, we have to pick out movies before the rest of the menfolk get here.”  Her grin was devious, and she’d done up her hair and make-up; really, tonight was an excuse for everyone to dress up after too long not doing it.  Dorothy was still confused that they all felt they needed an _excuse_ – but just because she didn’t let something silly like that stop her didn’t mean she wanted to have to compete with all these other girls every day, so they could keep being silly. 

            She grinned back at the older woman.  She and Kelly had the same taste in movies, so she had to agree, especially seeing as it wouldn’t be all that long before everyone else protested and turned something else on – they had to stretch it out as long as they could.  So it happened that they were playing with the laptop hooked up to the tv as everyone else arrived – Jake and Relena hilariously _matching_ with their mirrored slings – and she watched Jack with her lips pursed. 

            _I don’t see what might be so volatile about him…_  

            Relena gave her an amused but level sort of look as she came over.  “What?” 

            Dorothy smiled.  “What what?” 

            The princess snorted, raising her brows.  “I’m not buying it, Thea, out with it.” 

            _Well fine then._   “If they get blood on my shirt, I will throw the mother of all fits.” 

            Both Relena and Kelly guffawed at that, though Kelly was outright disbelieving and Lena was rolling her eyes.  “You know, just for that, come here, I need to bleed on you.” 

            Dorothy skittered out of the princess’ reach before she remembered that the other woman’s stitches had come out a week ago and she hadn’t bled for more than two, with Remalene speeding up the healing process.  She scowled at her as Relena laughed naughtily.  _She is picking up on too many of Jake’s bad habits,_ she decided with a scowl.  “You’re mean.”  

            Relena just laughed more.  “I _love_ your maturity level, Thea…”  She blinked as she focused on the laptop screen.  “Oh no, we are _not_ watching that!” 

-

***

-

**January 25 th 198 – Thursday – Sahara Desert**

            “Cut him down.” 

            I coughed as I hit the ground hard, the impact driving what little breath I had left out of my lungs; I curled up on my side, trying to get it back.  My back was a mass of searing pain, but at least they hadn’t stopped me from taking off my shirt first, so it wasn’t ruined…  It would be easier to let the welts heal if I could keep them covered, and it wasn’t like the cloth would have been much protection from the whip. 

            _A whipping, in this day and age…_   Effective, I supposed, but these people were legitimately _insane_.  Even if their ideals _didn’t_ make my want to hack and gag, the kind of society Cambyses was fantasizing about building using us all as their pawns wouldn’t be able to survive in a larger population.  Whoever had started this twisted little society and named it _Cambyses_ – an utterly tasteless action that bordered on historical sacrilege – had been smart and powerful enough to get the ball rolling but that was about it.  The entire concept was an unstable pyramid scheme held together by absolute power, fear, and brutality. 

            _And guilt,_ I reminded myself dryly as I forced myself up onto hands and knees, slowing my gasps down to pants.  The guilt made for _quite_ an effective insurance policy.  By the time any of us had a chance to try making a run for it, we’d already murdered or worse so many times that the smart ones didn’t _want_ to go home, because we knew what we had become.  _Union through mutual self-disgust and dread, bound together by the knowledge that if you stop falling off that ledge and get a grip on reality again, someone else will see… and then you’ll be next._  

            It was a disturbingly effective downward spiral of hate and revulsion that kept everyone in line, living permanently in a sort of mob mentality that eventually shut down any higher thought processing in self-defense.  The men who went too far down that rabbit hole just never came back; the kind ones started giving away their water rations, but most found a more _expedient_ method. 

            I stayed away from those – the temptation was… a bit much, sometimes.  I’d come pretty close to it a few times myself, after waking up in the cages for the first time – when I had begun to understand what the metal netting meant, and what I would have to _do_ in order to get out. 

            It had gotten easier after I started to find others like me.  The Iron Ghetto broke you enough so you became more animal than man in all too many ways… and I had been no exception, really.  _Put a man in a do or die situation with impossible odds, and you’d be surprised at how often he finds a way._   The difference was in those of us who could find our humanity again after resurfacing; and it hadn’t taken me long once I’d escaped into the relative slavery of the corps to recognize those remnants of mercy in others.  After that it was a matter of rising high enough in the ranks to have the right to claim people of my own… and it started to almost feel familiar.  That hardly erased my sins, but, well… 

            Survival was the first step.  Even if I decided I wanted to die afterwards, I had too many people counting on me now to indulge in self-destructive behavior right now.  If I died, I couldn’t be sure they would make it. 

            It didn’t really matter, though, that Cambyses’ expansionist bullshit would eventually either collapse under its own weight or face insurgence once it grew large enough – at least, not to me.  In a world created of and run by misery, eventually someone would damn the majority for the sake of themselves.  Romefeller and the Barton Foundation had brought out both the best and the worst of people for decades now, and in comparison, this was small fry – objectively, at least.  The timeline for that had already proven to be too long.  

            I wasn’t interested in staying long enough to lead that first rebellion, or in wasting away what humanity I kept safely buried to do what would be necessary to start one.  Mutiny would be easier to pull off than escape, but everyone has standards; just because I was forced to bend mine past the breaking point once didn’t mean I was willing to do it again. 

            Roshan hated me, but that was because he believed it was only a matter of time before I tried to seize power from him, _not_ because he had any idea that my squadron was getting ready to run south.  These psychos could keep their petty new world order schemes – I just wanted out. 

            Someone else could bomb them after that, for all I cared.  As soon as we were free, they were someone else’s problem. 

            “Up,” Roshan ordered, kicking sand in my face as he walked past me and back into his house – little more than a ramshackle hut, but still better than most of us had.  “If you’re still here when I come back out for dinner, I’m changing my mind.” 

            I could feel the others holding back from coming closer, the tension a bitter tang in the air.  _Good._   Even if Roshan’s back was turned, there were too many other witnesses here to tell tales, and if they broke rank now, the beating wouldn’t have been worth it. 

            And it _had_ been worth it.  To focus on nothing but pride and _mine_ – to step into my role and bruise Skye a few times with a snarl; to toss orders to Vaska to cut his rationing for a few days before stepping forward and claiming responsibility for my soldier’s punishment.  It wasn’t as though Vaska would follow through with it, after all – if he did I would thrash _him_ , and properly.  The casual violence with the promise of more behind closed doors alongside the knowledge that I didn’t tolerate anyone besides myself to touch my men fueled all the worst kind of rumors that made our enemies so wary of me, and that automatic fear was its own kind of currency here.  Playing it off-the-cuff like this intimidated my would-be rivals, and since I was held in high enough regard, known well enough in the neighboring camps, I knew I would only face a whipping. 

            Roshan would only have been too happy to beat Skye to death.  And I wasn’t about to lose someone else. 

            _Five months more…_   It was a depressing estimate, and one that had only grown as time went on, but it was what I had to cling to, and there wasn’t a chance in hell that I might give it up.  _Five months at **most**._   I might truly lose the rest of my sanity if it was any longer than that. 

-

***

-

**February 2 nd 198 – Friday – L2**

            “As I already said, I am _not_ the person you need to convince,” Leia repeated, _entirely_ understanding the man’s case.  “I’m all for it; hell, I will pay any premiums out of pocket for every _aspect_.  That’s hardly the point.”  He was frowning at her again, so she sighed and tried again.  “The kid doesn’t _get_ why he would want cosmetic surgery.” 

            “But the scarring-” 

            “Yes, I’ve seen the scarring; I know all about the scarring.  I’ve tried to talk to him about it.  The only points he’ll agree to concern long-term maximized mobility and use, and I can guarantee that if there is even a statistical _chance_ of a procedure taking his current mobility away or putting him in a bed for more than eight weeks, he will decline, and that’s that.”  She sighed, brushing her bangs out of her face.  “As for anything _outside_ that realm, the only chance it’ll happen is if that little girl can talk him into it.” 

            The plastic surgeon blinked at her in utter confusion.  “She’s twelve.” 

            Leia gave him a level look.  “I’m aware, Dr. Goodman.  I was there.” 

            He flushed at that but didn’t try to apologize, continuing to look utterly confounded.  “But how does that-” 

            “I’m _aware_ the boy is odd, doctor.  Seventeen-year-old boys with severe injuries _don’t_ go traipsing across continents and entire colony clusters while taking care of a child they found completely at random in the _best_ of times, let alone these.”  She met his eyes solidly.  “If you cannot convince Marlé into talking him into it, then by God the boy saved my daughter, he can keep his damn scars if he wants!”  Goodman was leaning away from her by now, but good _grief_ , she’d already said it nicely enough times for the man to understand. 

            It was _not_ her fault that Odin’s sense of practicality was level with his sense of aesthetics – which was to say he was more or less letting the twelve-year-old design his wardrobe.  _Not that that’s a bad thing._   She shook her head a little.  At least Marie had good taste… in loyal pseudo-brothers as well as comfortable fashion.  Leia wasn’t sure if her daughter remembered Jake at all, but she certainly seemed to have taken to Odin about the same as she had to her godfather when she was a toddler.  And for all his calm silence, he seemed just about as taken with her. 

            She was _almost_ ready to forgive him for having taught her daughter to vault from one rooftop to another. 

            _Maybe in another week._   She started to grind her teeth at the mere memory; suddenly having an utterly fearless child  was _not_ conducive to her nerves.  Marie’s assurances that he had made her perfect any landings before he let her high up helped, but no mother could watch her child do that without her heart skipping a beat. 

            Goodman finished gathering himself up and gestured for her to follow him back to the exam room Marie and Odin were waiting in.  She honestly didn’t care what the boy’s leg looked like so long as he didn’t, but she _did_ want him to know all his options and not regret his decisions later.  Hopefully Marie could convey that better than she could before his surgery next week. 

            She shook her head a little.  The muscular damage was extensive, but he’d already managed to compensate so impressively…  Once they encouraged the tissues to grow back into their proper shape and attachment points instead of the multiple secondary ones they had established, once he had retrained the new tissue to coordinate with the old?  His right leg might actually be his _stronger_ one.  It would never have the same endurance as the left and barometric pressure changes would hurt him like it would anyone with old wounds, but it _would_ be more immediately capable… and she had seen the feral way his eyes had lit up when he had learned that. 

            He _had_ been teaching her daughter how to free-run and fight and shoot; he was as bad as Jake when it came to the demands he made of his body, she was almost positive.  They had skirted around Odin’s identity so far, but it didn’t take a genius to realize he had fought in the war and been _good_ at what he did... and she had a few suspicions.  It really wasn’t too important – if there had been a chance that he was Wufei Chang it would have been, but Odin certainly wasn’t Chinese – but it _did_ make her wonder about what their best bets would be for the future. 

            Because now that she wasn’t desperate, she wasn’t fool enough to think her daughter would be completely safe from those that would use her if she stayed on L2.  False names and appearances only went so far, and it was fine for now… but it wasn’t a permanent solution. 

            She would have to talk about it with Odin while he was recovering, and hopefully he’d be more comfortable around her by then; using Marie as a bizarre kind of translator was fast getting old. 

-

***

-

**February 19 th 198 – Monday – Brussels, Belgium**

            Jake let out one of those naughty little cackles of his as he just barely ducked out of the way of her elbow, even as Relena felt all the blood drain out of her face.  “Oh my God!” 

            Her bodyguard just laughed harder.  “I think… I think you’ve got that move down…” 

            “Don’t worry, it’s not you,” Jerome noted, though he looked somewhat amused as well.  “He’s just insane.” 

            “That could have _killed_ him!” she found herself squeaking in protest. 

            “That _would_ be the point of you learning this.” 

            “But…”  _They_ were the ones who had lectured her over and over on the levity of how an elbow to the trachea wasn’t something you did unless it was a last resort because it was a lethal move, and now- 

            “Good thing he’s good at dodging?” Rome suggested. 

            “How is it _that_ funny?” she demanded of the lieutenant; Jake was still too busy laughing to talk. 

            Rome snorted.  “Because _he_ does the same damn thing when someone grabs him like that.” 

            _Oh._   Which meant he had startled her on purpose, to see if the drills he’d put her through were sticking.  And he was far too meticulous to move like that without thinking, which was incredibly comforting… for all that Rome was probably right and Jake likely _could_ have dodged without knowing the blow was coming. 

            They had started going over the attacks that he insisted ought to be ingrained responses as soon as she had been cleared for not needing her sling a few weeks ago.  The fact that they were the kind that if she had known them when she was younger would have stopped any would-be kidnapper in his tracks still stung.  She remembered the terror of being taken as a hostage when she was eleven.  Later, she hadn’t even been able to justify that she had acted stupidly by being out in the dark; she had still been on the Darlian estate, not far from the lighted front lawn.  Ignorance, innocence, however well-meaning, was unforgivable, especially for someone in her position. 

            She let out a little smile of her own as Jake started getting back control of himself.  It felt good to see the results of the monotonous drills – to feel her body gliding in smooth action before her mind had a chance to recognize what was happening…  For the first time in her life she felt truly _powerful_ , even though she knew, intellectually, that she was far from even holding her own against even the newly enlisted.  The confidence might not be terribly warranted, but she also had no intention of being separated from her guards.  Really, Jake would never let anyone close enough that she would _use_ the defensive movements; they were only going through with this to ease their minds for a worst case scenario that was unlikely to ever occur. 

            But if somehow it _did_ happen, she might be able to save her own life.  And however little progress she made, it was a comfort to realize that. 

            “It’s not _that_ funny,” she murmured to Rome. 

            “Like I said, your colonel’s special.”  And he winked, proving that he’d meant the pun… which made her groan.  _Really, they should have known better than to name an elite fighting force ‘The Specials’._   She could think of three jokes in poor taste just off the top of her head.  She smirked again.  _But then, it really **does** suit Jake at least._   ‘Quirky’ was really just the tip of the iceberg with him…  And that was okay. 

            She could think of far worse people to spend time with. 

-

***

-

**March 13 th 198 – Tuesday – Treize’s hidden compound**

            “Sir!  There’s-”

            “My screen is already on, Sanchez.  Thank-you; go ahead and tell any others who haven’t seen yet.” 

            “Sir.” 

            Treize never took his eyes away from his screen; Heavyarms had attacked a Regime foothold – it was reminiscent of the beginning of the modified Operation Meteor that the gundams had actually commenced in.  Tonight he should get an update from Váli with what information the Regime had been able to gather, but he suspected the details of what had occurred would be as bare as the reports after gundam attacks three years ago. 

            And he was also nearly positive that while he again knew the pilot, ‘Adam Bloom’, once he investigated he would _again_ find himself in a similar position to the beginning of the war, when he realized it wasn’t _really_ Trowa Barton piloting the red machine.  Adam was a… _flippant_ contact at best, giving little useful information at any point in time, but Treize liked to think he was familiar enough with the young man to know that he would have mentioned reviving his eight ton war machine.  He could not be positive – he would _never_ be positive of his ability to judge a man’s character again, after Zechs – but he was nearly certain… which meant the boy had either hidden it inadequately – again unlikely considering how thoroughly he had hidden Heavyarms before joining OZ as an infiltrator – or he had gifted the machine to someone. 

            Hopefully to someone worthy of the title ‘gundam pilot;’ otherwise this all would be sadly short-lived.  He found himself smiling.  _And that just wouldn’t do._   It was starting again… 

            It wouldn’t do to be any more than fashionably late. 

-

***

-

**L2**

            “Is that…?” 

            “Heavyarms,” Leia confirmed softly, not taking her eyes away from the screen.  “Your uncle was assassinated before he could pilot it, but he helped design it as well…”  She frowned.  “Odin?” 

            “It didn’t have a beam saber before,” Odin answered what he thought she was asking, rewatching the clips on the laptop he’d opened as soon as they heard something about a gundam attacking a Regime base.  When he looked up she was giving him an exasperated sort of look, which meant that _hadn’t_ been the question… so he tried to think of what else it might have been.  Leia never made even half as much sense as Mariemaia.  He’d gotten better at piecing her patterns of thought together in the past few months, but he still only followed what she meant without repeated prompting approximately fifty percent of the time. 

            _Hopefully it won’t be so utterly baffling with others down the line._   Living under Leia’s roof, he was starting to appreciate how simple his life had been when he didn’t have any choice dictating his actions.  He didn’t miss it – he _never_ would, not for a moment – but he had never spent hours on end so _confused_ either. 

            Admittedly, he was less confused just this week than the last, but that was like saying one rainstorm was more wet than another because it had lasted an hour longer; entirely unquantifiable, without even mentioning the irrelevance. 

            “How well do you know the pilot?”  Leia asked after it was clear he was waiting for a prompt.  She and Marie kept insisting he would adapt more quickly if he could figure it out first, but he still hadn’t seen enough of a pattern to do more than guess, which he thought was pointless… but at least they usually only made him try once or twice before just _saying_ it. 

            “Trowa…”  Leia stiffened, and he blinked before mentally shrugging.  It was obvious that Trowa had stolen the name from the woman’s older brother after he died – the same way he had Heero Yuy – but Trowa had never given him an alternate name to use.  “I stayed with him for a while after I destroyed Wing the first time.  He brought me back to health when everyone else left me for dead, but… he was mostly quiet.”  Catherine had talked more than enough for both of them, and Trowa had had such an odd tendency to follow rather than make up his own mind that, really, he’d just taken the companionship for the simple thing it was.  Even when he had come with him to offer his life to the families of all the pacifists he had killed at New Edwards, the other pilot had only spoken to ask occasional questions, or to note what was going on around them that he might not have noticed. 

            _Far less lively than Duo._   Far less trouble too, but he didn’t think Trowa would have ever staged a rescue for the person he had shot less than twelve hours earlier, especially considering the fact that he had to _know_ Heero had no way to or even interest in returning the favor.  The fact that he had decided to do the same thing later, provided Duo hadn’t been compromised, had been confusing at the time, but the way he’d been so _satisfied_ for having done it afterwards had discounted the theory that he had merely offered to save the other pilot because it would only be fair. 

            Not that he had really believed that idea, even at the time.  After all, there was no way he would ever have been willing to leave Duo alone near Wing so he could scavenge parts from it.  No one intelligent did anything only because it was _fair_.  A contributing factor, certainly, but on its own?  He hadn’t wanted to duel in Wing after Zechs had it rebuilt because it was _too_ fair. 

            …There had also been the urge to show the man up despite very obviously being out of his element, not to mention dueling in a suit designed for long range combat, but that had been a tertiary concern, not a deciding factor. 

            Still, Trowa…  Trowa was alive.  And while he had only been a ghost of his old self on _Peacemillion_ , it would be good to see him again.  _It’s good that he finally got a beam sabre on it._  Heavyarms inevitably always ran out of ammo sooner than would be preferred, and a simple knife could only do so much, especially in comparison.  The original Trowa Barton had liked more flash and bang than was practical, if he had really helped design it… as well as a distaste for close quarters combat.  Just because he had made that combat knife work didn’t make it _ideal_. 

            _The original Heavyarms model suited him poorly._   Left to his own devices, Trowa’s fighting style was all agility and finesse, striking and darting back out of range, then striking again from a new angle while his opponent was still struggling to respond to the first assault.  One of the more impressive attacks he had ever seen him manage in Heavyarms had been on their way to Antarctica, and the machine had been so ill-suited for it that the other pilot had sprained both wrists in the process. 

            This iteration appeared to have _some_ increase in mobility, though not as much as he assumed Trowa would really need to integrate his fighting style to it – but he might need to start from scratch, for that.  There were new engines for increased lift and movement along the back in a practical theft from the Taurus’ design, and while it was still shell heavy, the machine canons had been replaced by an energy based array.  _Better control and less collateral than the extra shells, but the power offset might be a concern in a drawn out battle._  

            Between the changes and the new paint job, it was only the characteristically shaped chest plate and shoulder mounts that felt like Heavyarms at all.  Just from the little clips of the battle being released to the public, he could see that the gundam had been modified enough to excel in in all ranges instead of just the one… and wasn’t that interesting? 

            Beam sabers were more economical, even on limited resources.  There was a _reason_ Trowa had stashes of heavy artillery sprinkled heavily across the planet and known space. 

            Leia’s eyes were on him again, though, and she wanted answers about the pilot, not the suit.  “None of us really ever knew much about the others,” he admitted.  He and Duo had run into each other with an odd frequency – and he was fun to get a rise out of – so he thought he understood him fairly well, and Quatre had been easy to understand after he recovered from Zero.  Wufei had never been anything more than a stranger with similar goals and an adequate skillset.  _Trowa…_  

            Maybe he had known Trowa better than the rest, once, but… it hadn’t really been him, at _Libra_.  Then afterwards, he’d gotten to know Quatre so well, but…  Well, he still had no idea what had happened to Quatre, and he had just seen Heavyarms, not Sandrock. 

            _Trowa, though…_   He should be able to run again in a few more weeks, and once he could, he would have to contact Xutao Chang and meet with Sally Po.  Now that he had fulfilled his promise to Marie and had no leads on the other pilots, it might be time to make his stance and enter the fray again.  _If Trowa’s already working with Po, then she’ll be a good place to start._  

-

***

-

**March 16 th 198 – Friday – Tanger, Morocco**

            Adam couldn’t help but smile broadly as he looked around the little pub, taking a deep pull from his coffee.  Reactions around him ranged all the way across the board.  Most stared as if transfixed or were chattering loudly, excited or terrified or confused.  Conspiratorial whispers skittered underneath that layer of noise, while others were bellowing for everyone to shut up, and there was one woman screaming about how the ‘End of Days’ was upon them.  He was altogether amused. 

            …Though hopefully someone would shut up the prophetess before she got _too_ annoying. 

            Focusing back on the screen – which no one could hear but had subtitles along the bottom in some language he could read despite not having the faintest idea what it _was_ – he hid a proud grin behind his mug.  _Heavyarms…_   He had no real memory of piloting the gundam before waking up with amnesia, but there had been a certain kind of comfort – nostalgia? – when he sat behind the controls.  He could remember piecing together the circuitry while laying on his back, listening to someone argue loudly about incompetence a few feet away… but he couldn’t remember the battles he had fought in before _Libra_.  He had never been able to decide if that was a good or a bad thing before he _had_ decided that he really had no use for the machine as times were in any case. 

            And Sally Po _certainly_ had come through on bringing it into play. 

            Watching more closely, he could tell that the dark brown paint covering the white sections was only the beginning of the modifications – the schematics of the original started racing through his head, along with the diagrams for an upgrade from… somewhere?  He was coming up empty on the details, but seeing as he’d never seen or heard of Heavyarms packing more than thirty missiles, and the pods that would contain them were absent from this model too, he’d never followed through on it. 

            _I wonder who she has piloting it._   Not that it mattered; whoever it was, they were clearly good enough to do the equipment justice.  This was the second time it had shown up – at least, it was if the military wasn’t hiding anything from the media, which was iffy – but they hadn’t gotten many good images of it before.  The Regime hadn’t had enough time to even attempt to fight back the first time; they had just point blank _lost_ a good sized store of Tauruses because they hadn’t anticipated a need for any defenses worthy of withstanding a _gundam_ … and hey, he wasn’t going to argue with that. 

            _Technically speaking, with the Regime floundering to work up a stance aggressive enough to fight back, you could even say it’s stimulating the economy._   Relena’s hydroponics fortresses had literally borne enough fruit to take the edge off their icy spring and more was coming, even as the fields were harvested of their surprisingly decent winter crops under the heat amplifiers and more were sown… 

            They had gone through the winter altogether much better than had been feared.  And with the assurance that they weren’t all going to starve, everyone was coming out of hibernation and taking up activism again, and, well… 

            _Voila gundam._

            He grinned again, ignoring the reporter’s subtitles and focusing on the clips they had of the battle again.  He could hardly wait.  

**-**

**-**

**-**

**-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *takes a bow* See you again in Sedition, starting April 7th, 198!

**Author's Note:**

> As of posting this to Archive of Our Own, this series has been updated. The majority of the changes are minor typos and grammatical turn of phrase, but there are also a handful of larger changes, where a little bit of additional detail has been added for continuity, without any changes to plot. For the sake of people rereading for those additional details or tweaking, any gross changes from the edit are noted at the beginning of each chapter. 
> 
> For the moment, fanfiction.net still has the old version, but it should be updated soon. If you're reading this in time with my posting, however, I would recommend sticking with the AO3 version for now.
> 
> That said, I'm new to tags, so if anyone has any suggestions, please do share. I only somewhat understand from the reader and search perspective, and sorting it for posting is driving me mildly insane.


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